


The Sanctuary of Regret

by Feravai



Series: The Foundation of All Desire [3]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: A hero's fall. Deconstructing a villain. Darkness, Depression, F/M, Family Drama, Grief., Mild Smut, Multi, Old Republic Era, Star Wars - Freeform, completed work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2018-12-17 16:39:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 60
Words: 165,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11855562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feravai/pseuds/Feravai
Summary: A continuation of my previous stories featuring former Jedi Master Liatrix and those close to her during the times of war with the Eternal Empire.  Will Liatrix be reunited with her family and those who matter to her?  Will she overcome Valkorion's hold over her and achieve victory?





	1. Chapter 1

 

**Chapter One**

 

The stars studding the galaxy lied.  Their glow implied a heart filled with fire and brilliance, but they did not sparkle and a star with no sparkle was no star at all.  They were pretenders and fakes and they were not alone. Littered among them were fleets of starships eerily suspended in the heat of battle or in the throes of destruction, or in retreat—all of them trapped in a frozen orbit over the rocky purgatory below.

Even the plumes of fire and smoke girding the vessels remained static. Placid and unmoving, fire had turned to ice, its fury pressed into an unwilling surrender. 

The sound of rocks being piled on top of more rocks broke the silence with its imperfect rhythm. There was a persistence in the effort, marred only by the falling sift of a rock that lost its place on the stack.

Time had no meaning here, but the scratchy rhythm continued out of spite, forcing time on a plain where it didn’t exist. It was the sound of an uneasy progress, all at once defiant and broken and impudent.  The beat was an affront to the unseen entity shadowing both builder and cairn.

The mound grew and when it was complete, the process would being again.

A raspy hiss gathered into a male voice—a hedonistic baritone as decadent as every known indulgence combined.

“Look at me. Do you know _why_ I followed you to this place?”

The song of piling stones grew more assertive as an angry staccato took over the beats.  

“Say something,” the voice taunted. “You’re of no use to either of us so long as you insist on piling these wretched stones over a body that isn’t there. You have covered entire continents with these mounds _._ What _will_ you do when you’ve exhausted every stone and hectare?”

Liatrix stopped building long enough to take in the landscape. Burial cairns touched every horizon—thousands upon thousands of mounds—spanning as far as the eye could see. She said nothing and continued packing the stones with bloodied hands. 

“This is the sum of your life as Jedi, as Sith.  Was it worth the journey? I think not. All of this,” he said, sweeping his arms in a wide arc, “was quite unnecessary.  All I asked was that he kneel—a small price to preserve your way of life.”

The rhythm quickened and the words hung between them.

He turned his back to her. “He was not the father you deserved, but _I_ am. I could teach you more than you can imagine.”

She hurled stone after stone at him, his low cruel laughter rising as each one passed through him without harm.

Liatrix leapt to her feet. “You didn’t deserve his fealty, Valkorion. Or mine. He was a true leader to the Empire. You abandoned your people.”

“But I didn’t abandon _you_.”

“Guess we can’t have everything.”

“Don’t think that I don’t hear you calling out to him, begging him to answer you. No matter how you beg and plead, he will never reply. Priorities change after death.”

“I need him. He wouldn’t abandon me.”

“He _already_ has.” Valkorian pivoted to face her. “If not for me, you’d be alone.”

“I’d rather that.”  Liatrix’s stomach knotted. She couldn’t deny Valkorion had a point.  _Why wouldn’t he answer?_

“As for the Empire and the Republic—both of them were failed experiments, peopled with beings trapped by their dogma and narrow-mindedness, much like your father. He’s not worthy of your grief.  Forget him, cut your losses, like I did.

“Never! You murdered him. You took everything and everyone that mattered from me. If there’s a hell, I’m in it.”

“I have no patience for your anger or self-pity. You’ve wallowed in both long enough. The time has come to _achieve_ something of worth.”

“Maybe I should just dash this rock against my head until my brain leaks out. Maybe _then_ you’ll shut up and leave me alone. You’re a disease, Valkorion. I should’ve known you’d pull something like this when I killed you.”

“Do you honestly believe _that_ was the moment I joined you?”

“I don’t have time for your mind games.”

“On the contrary, time is _all_ you have. Use it to evolve.”

“Everyone I love is gone. You should’ve killed me too. I’ll _never_ bow to you.  I’ll never be what you want.”

“I need no such obeisance from you. You and you alone have earned my respect.” He gazed up at the unmoving heavens and clasped his hands behind his back.  “I have always loved the stars.”

“I sincerely hope you’re not flirting with me.”

“Do not play the fool. We are long past such trivialities. Together, we watched a world die. We reveled in the true meaning of what it means to live.  No other can understand its purpose as _we_ do—we share a connection far deeper and more powerful than one forged of something so provincial as blood or lust.  Our bond transcends all others. Unlike those who share your blood or those you’ve had intimately, _I_ never left you.”

“Now I _know_ I’m in hell.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t become you. It’s an unfortunate trait I would see you stamp out.”

“I’ll get right on it,” she snarled. “There are more than a few things I wish I could stamp out. The horrors you inflicted on me—I can’t forget. When I’m alone at night, I can still hear them screaming.  I see the look in their eyes—that moment of realization that they’re about to die—that _everything_ is about to die. You violated me. You think forcing me to share a global extinction with you should endear you to me somehow?”

“You learned the value of life that day. In that moment, we _achieved_ something together. We became more than what we were before—we took our first steps to becoming our ultimate selves. I have watched you for a long time. Only _you_ were truly deserving of my favour.”

“I’m sure your children would disagree. No wonder they hate you.”

“They are pale shadows, nothing more. _You_ were the one I wanted to call my own and none of my creations ever came close.”

 “You’re _not_ my father. You're nothing. I’ll always be devoted to him and his memory. Never you. You’re a killer.”

Valkorion laughed. “As are you. You were always at your best when you took a life.  Each one added to your power. _That_ was my gift to you. You could be so much more and yet you insist on clinging to this absurd loyalty to a man you barely knew.”

“I didn’t know him long, but I knew him long enough.  He left an impression.” Liatrix turned her back to him and snatched up another stone.

“Your dedication is admirable, but why settle for building these mounds when you could be building empires? I would share all I have with you.”

“You don’t share.  You devour.  I’m _nothing_ like you.”

“You are _exactly_ like me. In your heart of hearts, you long for true freedom. You long for the galaxy with all its wonders and delights. You have denied your true nature for too long.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I long for my family. They mattered to me more than any Empire or war.  I fought only because it meant a better life for them.”

“Assuming they survived the holocaust my son has unleashed upon the galaxy in my name, you will find they no longer need you. Your core worlds are ash. There is nothing left for you—no Empire, no Republic. Become who you were meant to be.”   

“You _can’t_ know that. It’s impossible. You’re as stuck as I am.” 

“Am I?”  Valkorion’s lip edged up slyly.

“Go bother someone else if you’re not.”

“Denying the truth will not make it any less true.”

“Scourge will come for me.”

“He betrayed me and he will betray you too.”

“Liar!”

“I pity your delusions. The time you spent with him was a mere blink compared to the centuries he spent at my side.”

“He never showed you his true face. He lied to you for three hundred years. He resisted everything you are.”

“I _know_. Make no mistake, I saw through his machinations from the moment he betrayed Revan and the Exile to me. He fooled no one.”

“Then why didn’t you kill him?”

“Because his visions would lead me to you—you were always my goal.”

“You’re lying. You couldn’t have known about me.  It doesn’t matter. Someone will come.”  Liatrix gasped and doubled over.  A searing pain cut a path from her abdomen to her lungs. Bile bubbled up her throat and she vomited. “W-what is this?”  She cringed at the rusty sputum at her feet.  “What’s happening to me?”

“You’re dying. My children had you frozen in carbonite. Regrettably, the process was less than perfect. Only by my graces do you live.”

“Don’t do me any favours. Dying would be worth it to be rid of you.”

“Not even death will excise my hold on you.  You are mine as thoroughly as I am yours.”

“Someone will come. I _have_ friends.”

“You have no _friends_ —only those that would use you. Your companions…do you wish to see them before the end?”

Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to speak but caught herself.

“I can see that you do. Come,” Valkorion beckoned with an upturned palm.

Liatrix hesitated, her gaze wary. She regretted the moment of unguarded candor he elicited. She followed him up the rocky incline until the burning hull of a wrecked freighter came into view.  She’d only seen the _Scumrunner_ once but recognized it immediately.

Thin plumes of static grey smoke curled over the site and she broke into a sprint, leaving Valkorion behind.

She collided with an invisible barrier and frowned. “I need to talk to them—to tell them…”

“Your companions were useful before you understood your potential. But now, you are complete.  You have no _need_ for this mechanical servant, or my failed creation—any more than you have a use for this man you once called husband.”

“I’m here!”

“Calling to them will do no good.”

“Where’s my family—my children? Scourge?”

“I’ve indulged you quite enough.  Seeing them would serve no purpose. Every day they drift further away from you and each other while the galaxy spirals into chaos.”

“I won’t fall for your illusions.  They’re not really here.  They never were. None of this is real.”

“There is greatness in you. I never understood how you could settle for such a mediocre existence.”

“That’s not for you to decide.  I was happy.”

“Were you?”  Valkorion drawled and circled her like a vulture circles a carcass. “Your silence is telling.  Admit it.  You outgrew the Republic, long before you murdered their champions.”

With a pass of his hand, Liatrix relived her duel with the Grandmaster on Dromund Fels.  Within minutes, Satele stood before her, arms charred and severed at the elbows and her weapon at her feet in pieces.  With one deft kick to the chest, she’d sent Satele Shan hurtling off the cliff to her death.  Liatrix peered over the edge, watching her enemy connect with the jagged rocks below. 

The vision faded and Valkorion stood at her side. “I sense no regret in you.”

“That’s because there isn’t any. She deserved it. She failed the order and her family. My only regret is that Theron suffered—”

“And in time, you would have outgrown the Empire as well. You should be grateful, I saved you the trouble of having to kill your father yourself. He would’ve held you back.”

“My father was everything to me.  You’re kidding yourself if you think I’m going to believe your lies, Valkorion.”

“There was a time not so long ago that you would sit by my side, all too willing to hear my wisdom.”

“I’m no longer a mindless puppet.  I’m stronger than I used to be.”

“Yes, I can feel it.”

“You choose to harass me, day in day out. Why?”

“Because you are a part of me I wish to keep. I have done all I can for you, but I cannot save you unless you choose to live.”

“Fine. What is it you want from me?”

“Only you have matched my will to survive—we share a common foe—one that will require both of us to defeat.”

 

((to be continued…))

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Two**

 

 

“Papa…don’t go.”

“I must.” Scourge rolled his cloak over his shoulders and slung an empty leatheris pack over his shoulder.  

“Nooo,” she mewled.

“You sound like an irritated Nekarr cat.”  The edge of his lip curled up, but he kept his back to her so she wouldn’t see. He clipped his lightsaber to his belt and drew his cloak over it.

“Papa, stay,” she pouted.  “ _Please_?”

He returned to her bedside and she looked up at him with eyes as blue as those in his memories.

“There is no more to be said—I’ve told you every story I know.”

“Tell me about Mama.”

“Toska, you need rest.”  He sighed and fastened the Tuk’ata fang toggle at his throat.

“Please, Papa? I can’t remember her. I try and try, but I _can’t_ ,” she insisted, tears threatening to spill.

A pang of guilt stabbed him in the gut as surely as a blade and he sat on the edge of the child’s bed. He couldn’t deny her any more than he could deny Liatrix when she was alive.  “Your mother was brave—fierce, beautiful and devoted to her father,” he whispered.

The little girl’s brows puckered thoughtfully and she smiled. “Like me.”

He chuckled. “Yes, like you.”

 She coughed, the sound echoing deep like thunder trapped in her chest. Scourge eased a cup of water to her lips and frowned at the lack of colour in them and the dark circles under her eyes.

She pushed the cup away. “What happened to her? How did she die?” 

Scourge drew a deep breath, deep enough to fill his lungs so that it felt like they would burst if he didn’t blow it out.  “She died—in battle, fighting alongside your grandfather.  I was unable to save them.  The enemy—there were too many of them and of our fighters, only I survived. My ship was damaged and I was injured—I don’t remember much else. I woke much later to learn they’d lost the battle. I should never have left them.”

“But then you’d be dead too.”

“Indeed.”

“And I’d be all alone.”

Scourge shifted his weight and stared at the plank floor between his boots.

“Do I look like her?”

“Yes.” Scourge stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers.  Her face was hot, hotter than it should’ve been and every breath rattled.  “You look like her— _exactly_ like her. Perhaps you’re old enough now, I can show you.”  He left the room and returned with a palm-sized holo projector.  He tapped the switch at the side and watched the image rise from the center of the unit, casting a pale blue light between them. 

The little girl drew herself higher onto her pillows and reached for the image.  Her eyes grew wide and Scourge set the projector into her pudgy hands.  He pushed the damp hair on her forehead to one side.

She stared at the tiny figure, examining it from all angles and when she tried to touch it the image glitched. “Mama was pretty. I want to be like her when I’m big.” 

“You will,” he said wistfully. “You’ll be exactly like her, I promise you.”

“If she had lived would I have had brothers or sisters?”

“Without a doubt,” he murmured.

Another rumbling cough escaped her and she dropped the holo to clamp her hands over her mouth to stifle it.  Her shoulders and body shook. The cough was relentless.

“When you are strong enough to travel, we’re leaving.”

“Where are we going?” She sputtered between coughs.

“Perhaps Alderaan—perhaps elsewhere—but away from this dust.”

“What’s it like there?”

“There are mountains, covered with snow and trees, the air is clean…it was the birthplace of your grandmother.”

“What’s snow?”

“It’s cold and beautiful and something you need to see for yourself.  When you’ve recovered, you can play in it.”

Toska beamed. “Will Shyn and Werd come?”

“They’ve served our family for many years. I’ve no doubt they’ll wish to remain close to you. They love you as their own.”

“And Kalil and Morlus, too?”

“Perhaps—but do not fault them if they choose to remain. They’ve made a life here—they have families to consider and a factory to run.”

“But Papa, won’t you miss it here?” 

“A home isn’t defined by stone or timber—home is defined by family. So long as we are together, we are home.”

“When are we going?”

“When you’re well enough to travel but for that to happen, I must leave. Ingredients are needed for your medicine and I’ve tarried long enough.”

“When are you coming back?”

“I should be back in time for supper.”

Toska coughed and wretched until she filled a kerchief with scads of rusty mucous. 

Scourge dabbed the spittle from her lips and chin and took away the sullied cloth.  He pressed the cup into her hands and she drank.

“I’m c-cold, Papa,” she managed through chattering teeth.

Scourge frowned and pressed his hand to her forehead.  “Sleep now, I’ll stoke the fire.”

She nodded obediently and settled into her pillows and cuddled her toy nerf.

He knelt to feed the fire and the light played over his hand to highlight his burn scar.  It was barely noticeable anymore, save for the branch of thickened flesh dividing his hand.  Many years had passed since he’d last meditated before the flames and the goddess within them—an oversight he promised to correct upon his return, for Toska, if no one else.    

He returned to her side and drew the coverlet up to her chin but as he turned away he felt a tug on his cloak.

“Papa?”

Scourge froze in his tracks. “Mmm?”

“I love you,” she looked up at him with heavy watery eyes. Sweat pilled along her hairline and he feared the fever had worsened.

“And I you.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and left, just as the elderly turnip faced maids returned with fresh supplies.  After a brief exchange, he ventured out into the dusty heat that defined Dromund Fels. The wind and sand whipped through the settlement he had built with the slaves he’d liberated from Kaas City.

 

He cinched his hood more snugly and began the treacherous hike into the Red Bluffs.  He paused from time to time to harvest the gangly tufts of golden chaparral and to dig for osha roots. He licked his lips, tasting the salt of Toska’s fever on them.

Her questions haunted him and he dreaded the day he’d have to tell her the truth. One day she would be old enough to suspect the lie he’d told and worse still she’d begin to question it.  She had never been shy about asking questions. There were days she did nothing but question, nearly driving him mad. Why this, why that, why, why, why. 

This wasn’t the first time she’d asked about her mother, but somehow he’d managed to deflect her questions or distract her with some bobble. Until today.

Of course, she couldn’t remember her mother—she had never met her, let alone grown in her womb. Liatrix wasn’t her mother, but her progenitor—her mother, perhaps, from a certain point of view.

He hadn’t intended to claim Darth Creant’s personal clone.  He had done all he could to put its existence from his mind and while Liatrix and his children lived, it was easy to forget.

After their loss, the temptation to search for the clone bloomed and niggled at him day and night. He had resisted. The day he’d caught himself believing he’d finally conquered his grief was the same day a messenger arrived with coordinates to a genetic cache hidden on Dromund Tyne—a barren, rocky world too near to resist.

The message was several years old—issued by one of Creant’s droid servants—surely the sample wouldn’t be viable, but the possibility that it might be tormented him.

He thought on the clone Balkar had stolen for himself—the one he’d murdered because of a vision and the one that earned him life time enemies in Balkar, Theron Shan, and Kimble.

The memory haunted him—but perhaps this was meant to be his redemption.  Perhaps the Force had deemed his loss punishment enough and this was meant to balance it.  The Emperor’s cache of clones on Kamino had been destroyed by Marr years ago and if this one was viable, it was the last in the galaxy.

 

Two days after receiving the communique, he donned extreme climate gear and took a shuttle to Dromund Tyne. 

A week later, he learned the sample was viable and with the help of a retired cloner, he began the process.  Seven months later, he held his new daughter in his arms and though he needed no justification for his actions, he asserted that in this way—the Marr line would live on.

 

He stuffed a large clump of osha roots into the satchel and squinted at the horizon and then the thriving settlement below.  The home he’d grown up in was the largest of the buildings and the heart of the village. A few kilometers away stood the factory they’d built to collect and refine the sandy dust into a durable glass suitable for space faring vessels. The treaty with Zakuul strictly prohibited the Empire from manufacturing any material that could be used against them. Their former suppliers had either been destroyed or relocated to Zakuul and carefully monitored.  The demand for space grade glass grew and profit came from that which could be kept secret from their Zakuulan oppressors.

Scourge tipped his canteen to his lips and guzzled the tepid water.  He capped the container and dragged the back of his hand across his mouth.  The layers of dust accumulated on his face cracked like parched soil.

He climbed higher and higher until he’d scaled the bluffs. Two hours later, he’d tracked and killed a mature cliff manka for its teeth—the final ingredient needed for Toska’s medicine.

The sun began to sink as he harvested the other useful parts of the dead animal—including the claws and whiskers.  He packed each part into his pack and began the long climb down. 

A third of the way, a feeling of foreboding seized him and took root deeply enough that his facial tendrils tingled.

His jaw tightened along with his body and his reaction was followed by the swooshing zoom of a fleet, at least a dozen ships large, all of them appearing from nowhere at once with geometric precision.  

They formed a barbed wall over the settlement and the factory and hung with a menacing silence as though they were waiting for something.

Scourge quickened his descent. The ledges crumbled and gave way under his weight and the speed of his effort.  He looked down, searching for a ledge he could land on.  The stone he clung to broke and he tumbled and bounced against the face of the cliff.  He caught a sharp outcropping below and dangled from it.  He extended his legs toward the rock face, hoping to still his body and recover from the dizzying spill. He panted and shut his eyes, waiting for the motion in his brain to stop.

He released the crag and eased himself to the next ledge.  The whirr of guns powering up buzzed over him and a rain of silver-blue plasma bolts pummeled the settlement. 

“No!” He bellowed.

Even at his current elevation, the screams of the terrified villagers rose up with the smoke.  They scurried out of their homes in a frenzy like so many confused ants. They ran half-crouched and shielding their heads against the onslaught.

The barrage continued, the blasts shaking the surface as well as the bluffs. The smoke mingled with the dust to form a thick dark brume over the settlement.  Rocks tumbled and skipped down the cliff face.  Scourge clung to the wall and pressed his body against it to avoid most of the avalanche’s deadly crush.  He coughed and his eyes stung.

Waiting for it to stop felt like years.  The world shook and he lost his footing. No ledge was safe.  He tumbled alongside the boulders and when he landed the blasts stopped. The screams stopped. His hands vibrated down to the small bones buried under his flesh.  The dust wafted around him making his eyes dry and itchy.  He pawed at them to clear his vision and stood.  Miraculously, nothing was broken, only bruised.

He looked up and was able to make out the barest silhouettes of the fleet over the clouds and then in unison they darted away, leaving as they’d arrived. In their absence, a deathly silence took over the settlement.

His legs throbbed and he forced himself to take a step forward, followed by another and then another, until he broke into a stiff legged sprint toward the village.  Plumes of fire and smoke choked him as surely as the dust. 

The ground beneath him suddenly dropped and he flung out his arms, swinging them to keep his balance.  At his feet, was the start of a crater perhaps fifty meters deep.  He backed away slowly and followed the edge of the maw—the new perimeter of a dead village. 

Hours passed. The flames burned down and the wind thinned the smoke.  Scourge stared out as far as he could see.  The abyss yawned before him, vast and terrible enough to swallow the horizon.

A vision of the clone he’d murdered wormed its way back into his mind—like Toska, she was nothing more than an innocent struggling to survive. He had taken her life and foolishly believed the Force had meted out his punishment and that all he’d lost had paid for that crime.

It hadn’t.

He shuffled aimlessly, trying to decide where it was exactly that his home had been and he was certain of two things; the first, that he shouldn’t have left her, and the second, that he wouldn’t rest until he’d razed the Eternal Empire.

 

((to be continued…))

 

A/N: Just a tidbit I found interesting and wanted to share. The quote below was what led me to the name Toska.  I couldn’t find a name that had the depth of feeling within the English language that related all I wanted and then I read this:

“Toska - noun /ˈtō-skə/ - Russian word roughly translated as sadness, melancholia, lugubriousness.  
  
"No single word in English renders all the shades of toska. At its deepest and most painful, it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause. At less morbid levels it is a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases, it may be the desire for somebody of something specific, nostalgia, love-sickness. At the lowest level, it grades into ennui, boredom.”

**\--[Vladimir Nabokov](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5152.Vladimir_Nabokov)**


	3. Chapter 3

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Three**

 

 

Liatrix had tried to forget the Eternal Empire’s throne room, at least as many times as there were stars in the system, but there was no forgetting it. Every night she walked the same dark path to the same dark place and the dream always ended in a lethal and dazzling flash of light.

This time it was different, she wasn’t asleep or perhaps she was and simply couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

She trailed behind Valkorion as they strolled across the aurodium embellished bridge toward the throne. Twelve steps led up to the dais and another five to the golden throne with its backdrop of endless stars. 

Knights lined the bridge, saber pikes at the ready.  The woman in black stood at the base of the stairs leading to the throne. Valkorion’s son, Arcann, presided over the room with a bored gaze, his bulk languidly draped over the throne he’d stolen.

Darth Vowrawn and Supreme Chancellor Jebevel Madon approached Arcann, both men, bending the knee to Valkorion’s disfigured son.

“Behold—the Eternal Throne, the new seat of power in the galaxy,” Valkorion announced.

Liatrix shook her head incredulously.  “This can’t be—I’ve only been gone—”

“—Longer than you think,” Valkorion cut in.

Liatrix knelt by Vowrawn’s side and studied his profile. His eyes had grown redder and more savage.  The impish twinkle she remembered in them was long gone and new lines creased his face. His robes were well-worn and lacked the flamboyance he was known for. 

“What are they doing here?”

“They’ve come to negotiate a treaty with the Eternal Empire.”

“That doesn’t look like a negotiation,” she said, straightening.

“Oh but I assure you it is, though the terms are quite simple—agree or die—just as they’ve _always_ been. Zakuul offers no concessions and why should it? The empire I built surpasses _all_ others.”

Liatrix’s mouth twisted and panic welled in her gut just as it did the first time she’d set foot inside the throne room.  Adrenaline coursed through her veins like the rapids of a river and her insides quaked under her skin.  Her hands curled into fists and she felt a wet heat building under her lashes. 

“You should’ve killed me when you had the chance,” she whispered.

Valkorion seized her chin and forced her gaze to his. “Had I done so, we would have achieved nothing.”

“And just what is it we’re supposed to have achieved here—except pissing each other off?”

“You stand on the very spot where he died. _You_ are alive and _he_ is not.  He was narrow-minded, consumed by ancient dogma. You—are different.  You and I are more alike than you would care to admit and who we are must be _preserved_ at all costs.”

She broke free of Valkorion’s hold and glared at the floor. Her memory filled in the blank space until she saw her father lifeless at her feet.  “Answer me one thing, Valkorion, what became of his body?”

“My children had it incinerated. His ashes are naught but dust amongst the stars.”

Liatrix turned her back to him and stared out at the galaxy.  “That’s oddly comforting, coming from you,” the usual venom in her voice absent.  “I suppose that’s all any of us will ever be one day.”

“All except for us,” he drawled. “Death is the fate of lesser beings—you and I— _we_ are destined for far greater things.”

“My father and I will be together again one day, and not even you will be able to take that from me. We’ll find each other.”

“Once you’ve tasted what I have to offer, your father will be nothing more than a vague memory.”

She watched as the sun rose over Zakuul’s red moon. The clouds swirled around the ebony spires piercing the stratosphere.  There was no denying its tranquil beauty—but there would be no admitting it either.

Time found the throne room and the woman in black narrowed her eyes. She lurched forward, her arrow sharp features screwed up in warning.  Both leaders departed quickly, but the woman prowled the room as though she were looking for something else.  She whirled about and came to a stop, mere inches away from where Liatrix and Valkorion stood.

Liatrix’s right hand itched for a weapon.   “I think she sees me.”

“My daughter, Vaylin, was always my favorite,” Valkorion admitted.

“These are your _real_ children? With an _actual_ woman?”  Liatrix sneered. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Abandoning my past allowed me to experience pleasures I denied myself before.”

“Let me guess—she answered your dating profile—megalomaniacal despot seeks soulmate—enjoys long walks under the stars before dining on them.”

Valkorion sighed and turned her to face him. “I found love here—and who knows, perhaps you too will find it.”

“I don’t even want to know what you’re hinting at with that. I _had_ love. You and your children forced us apart.”

He paced lazily, hands clasped behind his back. “A reunion may yet be possible.  Zakuul has exceeded my expectations—the finest fleet, a military that sees the Force as something more than light or dark—a world to surpass all others—and my children abuse their power.  They must be stopped before they ruin everything.”

“So there it is. I _knew_ you wanted something. You need me to kill them for you.”

“They lack discipline. Do not underestimate them, however, they’re lethal.  It will take both of us to put an end to their corruption.”

Liatrix laughed.  “You say that like you’re some paragon of virtue.”

 

Vaylin ignited her lightsaber.

Arcann’s voice rumbled from on high, “What is it?”

Vaylin remained still and silent, her brow creasing as she focussed. 

“She senses our presence here,” Liatrix began.  “And she doesn’t trust your son.”

“Vaylin trusts _no_ _one_.  Nor should you.”

“Who says I do?”

The woman in black lunged. Her eyes flashed as golden as her saber.  She thrust the weapon forward and waited.  When her challenge went unmet, she swished her saber and retracted it.

Liatrix doubled over as though she’d been impaled. Her eyes grew wide.  “Am I—am I dying?”

“No,” Valkorion whispered, “Quite the opposite—we are being _reborn_.”

 

Liatrix gritted her teeth against the pain. The throne room vanished in an explosion of light. A shrill whistle alternating in pitch from high to low threatened to drive a hole through her mind. Darkness eclipsed the light until there was nothing left of it. Panic swelled in her chest.

Her lungs burned. The odor of something chemical tainted her senses with a metallic taste and smell.  She stumbled forward and collapsed as if her body had been suddenly and violently deboned. Unable to stand or see, she landed with a thud against something cold and hard.

Somewhere above her, she heard the faint rumble of voices—a man and a woman, their accents unmistakably Imperial.

“My lord, there must be some mistake—it’s _not_ her.  This woman is _not_ my wife. All of our planning, the sacrifices we made, all for nothing.”

“Not for nothing, Major. It appears an error has been made and for that, I apologize. While she is not your Wrath, I know her. She’s Darth Marr’s daughter.”

“But I thought she was killed—alongside her father in battle.”

“That’s what we all thought, but apparently not. Clearly, the rumors about Arcann are true—he likes to keep trophies—and she’s his prized possession. _She’s_ the one who killed their Emperor—she’s the one they call the Outlander.”

“Utterly appalling—though it does explain this vault.”  He tapped his scanner and a series of beeps followed his input. “My medi-sensor indicates her chances of survival are extremely low, but it appears she’s regaining consciousness.”

“We need to stabilize her as much as we can. We’ve lingered long enough.” The woman knelt by Liatrix’s side and propped her up against her thigh. “Don’t try to move.”

“Who are you? I _can’t_ see,” Liatrix murmured, panic lacing her tone.

“It’s me, Lana—Lana Beniko. Surely you remember? We were allies once—we met on Manaan and worked together against the Revanites.”

“Is that really you?”

“Yes, but I’m afraid we don’t have much time.  I have an antidote for the hibernation sickness. It _will_ hurt.”

“Who’s with you?”

Lana prepared the hypo syringe. “Major Malavai Quinn and Tee-Seven, one of your former associates.”

Quinn scanned the corridors of the vault. “Tee-seven, access the security records, perhaps the information we require is there.”

The droid responded with a series of beeps and whistles and extended its tool arm to interface with the facility’s computer.

“Tee-Seven—where is everyone? Scourge…my children are they safe? I have a million questions—” Liatrix managed before doubling over.  She clutched her gut and threw up.

Lana winced. “The poisoning is more severe than I expected.  I’m going to administer an increased dosage—but we need to get you out of here to treat you properly.”

Liatrix’s body spasmed. “Gaaaah!”  She clenched her teeth and dug her fingers into Lana’s arm.

The droid whirred and beeped.

“Are you sure,” Quinn snapped.  “She’s not in this facility? Scan the vault again!”

The astromech warbled and whistled in a low tone.

“She’s not on Zakuul? What do you mean she’s _not_ on Zakuul? Where is she?”

Tee-Seven beeped frantically and rocked back and forth. 

Lana scowled. “That’s not good.  It appears we’ve been discovered. Tee-Seven, do whatever you can to stall security. Major help me get her up. ”

“Of course, my Lord.”

Liatrix winced. “I know that presence—it’s _her_ —Valkorion’s daughter. She’s on her way here.”

“Confronting her now would be a disaster. We need to leave at once. ” Lana spoke into her comlink, “Koth? Prepare for take-off.  We’ve got to go.”

“Where’s Scourge—and my children? Are they safe?”

“There’ll be time to talk later.  We can’t afford a run-in with Vaylin.”

“But we outnumber her.”

“You’re in no condition to fight. It’s a miracle you can even stand.”

“Give me a weapon. They took mine when they captured us.”

“You can’t even see.”

“I don’t need to see to use it.”

“Damn your stubbornness. Take this then,” Lana pressed a lightsaber into Liatrix’s hand. “Use it only if absolutely necessary, I prefer staying in one piece.”

“Have a little faith.”

“Faith is pretty much all I’ve been running on,” Lana snapped. “Major Quinn finish up here with Tee-Seven and we’ll meet you at the rendezvous point.”

“Understood, my lord.”

“Do you really think splitting up is a good idea?”

“It’s not ideal, but we have little choice in the matter.  They’re creating false security alerts to draw them away from us.  Hold on to me, let’s go.”

 

Liatrix cringed as they half-limped, half sprinted through the corridors. She threw up again and clutched her side.

“I know this is difficult for you.  Fight through it.”

“I am—at least it’s not completely dark anymore—but everything’s still a blur.”

“That’s good news.  At least you’re recovering your vision.  Try to stand on your own—we’ve hit an obstacle—blasted door is sealed tight, but I can manage.”

“Let me help you.”

“No…save your strength. We have a long way to go.”

The din of crunching metal echoed through the corridor as Lana forced the door.  “That should do it.  Come on.”

The clatter of metallic feet sounded around the corner.  “Skytroopers!”  Lana shouted as she dispatched the first trio.  Liatrix ignited her saber in time to deflect the next squad’s barrage of plasma fire.

A male voice crackled over Lana’s comlink.  “Feelin’ a bit exposed out here. Did you get her?  Damn—I think we’re gonna have to move the pickup. We’re taking damage.  If we land now, we’ll be blown to bits. It’s like Altair 3 all over again. ”

“Do what you can Koth.  We’ll find another way. Leave the channel open.”

“Understood.”

“So…is Koth your boyfriend?” Liatrix prodded as she slashed at the skytrooper blocking her path.  Metal clattered against the floor as the troopers dropped.

“Tell me that isn’t your largest concern right now.”

“You two sound like you’ve been through a lot together… _and_ you’re wearing a ring.”

“Your sight is better than you’ve let on,” Lana snapped.

 

Liatrix kept pace with Lana across the maze of plexisteel bridges.  “It’s a wonder no one falls off these things.”

“This way,” Lana tugged Liatrix onto a waiting turbo-lift.  “I really am happy you survived.”

“Likewise.  Thanks for not putting me back when you realized I wasn’t who you came for. Major Quinn sounded very disappointed.”

“He misses his wife. We’ve been working on this Op for a long time through countless setbacks.  No one was able to access the vault to make a positive identification. We only had one shot at this. All we knew, was that Arcann’s greatest enemy was there.” 

“Arcann—he set me up—he wanted the throne for himself.”

The elevator lurched three meters above the landing.

“We’ll have to continue this later.  Jump!”

The ground quaked and the rumble of twisting metal echoed through the complex, setting off a warning klaxon. Screams added to the commotion as the employees bolted from the building.

Liatrix whirled about. “What the hell is going on?”

“It’s Vaylin. She’ll stop at nothing to keep you from escaping.”

The klaxon gave way to the emergency warning system. “Reactor failure imminent, commence evacuation.”

“She’s lost her damn mind—she’s going to blow the reactor.  We have to get out of here. There’s nothing we can do,” Lana hissed.

“Don’t you dare! Thousands’ll die! You can shut it down.” Koth snarled over the comlink.

Liatrix gripped Lana’s elbow. “We have to try.”

“Have you gone insane? You’re going to get us all killed.”

“If I don’t try, I’m not worth saving.”

Lana growled.  “Your slumber must’ve had quite an effect.  You do remember you’re no longer a Jedi?”

“I was never a Jedi. Look, we don’t know where the others are. Quinn, Tee-Seven, they might need more time.”

“You’re impossible!”

“C’mon—it’s got to be through there, right?” Liatrix indicated the doors at the end of the hall.

Lana nodded.  “I can’t believe I’m going along with this.”

 

Broken lines in the reactor chamber hissed and pumped wet clouds of heat over the station.  Red lights flared on and off and the warning klaxon was loud enough to vibrate anything that wasn’t bolted down. A steamy fog coated the floor, adding to the stifling heat.

Liatrix sprinted toward the computer console and frowned at the display.

“We're never going to make it in time,” Lana groused.

“I need you to go to that console there, we have to sync the inputs. Let’s hope the Force is with us and that I still remember how to do this.”

Lana crossed the bridge to the other console.  “On three then?”

“On three.”

Liatrix glanced over at Lana and began the count and input the commands to shut down the reactor. 

“Why isn’t it working?” 

“I don’t know Lana…try it again.”

“It won’t take…and we’ve only seconds left.  We’re getting out of here even if it means dragging you out by the collar!”

“Dammit.” Liatrix drew the back of her hand across her forehead to keep the sweat from dribbling into her eyes.  Her gaze settled on the glowing coils connecting the reactor to the power source.  She drew her lightsaber and slashed through them.  The machinery powered down and grew silent save for the blue sparks spitting from the severed connections.

“Reactor shut down sequence _initiated_ ,” the emergency warning system announced.

“You just gambled with the fate of the entire galaxy!”

Liatrix shrugged.  “It worked.”

“Damn you.  Can we go now?”

“Bet you’re sorry you sprung me now, huh?”

“Remarkably no.”

 

Skytroopers poured into the reactor chamber from every direction.  Lana pulled down a pipe and launched it at the clattering horde to block their path.  “This way!”

Liatrix tore after Lana, her saber alive as it deflected the bolts following them out.  “Dammit, it’s Vaylin!”

“Keep moving,” Lana huffed.

“I’m sick of running, let’s end this now.”  Liatrix’s saber hand flexed around the saber hilt.

“You’re mad! You’re in no condition to fight her. And no you’re not talking me into more insanity.”  Lana’s hand closed around Liatrix’s wrist and together they cleared the gardens and leapt onto the platform below.

“Koth! Where are you! Is Quinn with you?” Lana shouted into her comlink.

“Yeah. The droid is staying back to disable the artillery guns. We need three minutes—we’ve uh…taken a bit of damage.  Jonas and Quinn are working on it.”

“All right—three minutes, but not a second more.  We’re heading toward the east platform. Vaylin is on our heels.  Hurry!”

“Jonas?  Not Jonas _Balkar_?”

“The very same.  Let’s go!”

Skytroopers came at them from every angle as they fled, a rain of fire and plasma bolts corralling them onto the eastern platform. Liatrix and Lana dispatched the squadron, leaving behind a pile of twisted metallic bodies.

A pair of golden knights emerged from behind the wreckage. “Outlander, you are guilty of assassinating the Immortal Emperor! Drop your weapons and surrender!”

Liatrix and Lana exchanged glances. “We’ve nowhere to go. I hope your friend Koth knows what he’s doing.”

“He does, but let’s worry about the task at hand.”

“Agreed.”  Liatrix turned back to the knights. “I don’t surrender, not to you or anyone else.”

She leapt forward to engage the knights and Lana followed. 

“Besides, if your Emperor is immortal, how could _I_ have killed him?” Liatrix taunted as they traded blows.

The knight froze and his partner fled. “Run, we’ll fight another day.”

Lana snatched the defeated knight into a choke hold and dangled him over the platform.

“Stop playing, Lana.  Just end him.”

Lana tightened her grip and snapped the knight’s neck.

“I sure wish Koth would get here,” Liatrix muttered.

A presence nearby surged and swelled with fury across the Force.

 

“It’s Vaylin again,” Lana hissed under her breath, as she watched the woman in black tear up the platform to create a makeshift shield.

“What the hell is she doing?”

“I don’t want to find out. Koth! Dammit!” Lana shouted into her comlink.  “Run, I’ll hold her off as long as I can.”

Liatrix drew her saber. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

“Damn you.  Just go!”

 

 

A riot of plasma fire came from behind, just missing Liatrix and Lana to zero in on Vaylin across the bridge.  Swarms of troopers and knights fell in behind her.

Liatrix whirled about at the roar of incoming thrusters. “That our ride?”

“Yes. Finally!” Lana hissed and leapt onto the shuttle’s extended boarding ramp.  “Liatrix, come on! Forget her! Hurry!”

Vaylin spun the section of jagged durasteel she’d ripped up and deflected the incoming fire.  Liatrix scowled. Her legs trembled as if they were about to give out and pins and needles coursed up her right arm. Lana’s voice reached her across the din of deflected bolts. 

 

Liatrix leapt from the platform, just catching the edge of the boarding ramp as the shuttle rose.  She scrambled to pull her body up, managing part of the way before slipping backward again. She panted and steeled herself to make another attempt but it felt as if a bull nerf was strapped to her back.  Her left arm cramped and she dangled off the ramp by her right hand. She could feel her hold slipping.

“Aw hell,” she growled through gritted teeth when an outstretched hand presented itself to her. 

“Grab on!”

“Jonas!” Liatrix gasped and swung her left hand around to reach for his hand.  He drew her up onto the ramp with a swift even motion and ushered her into the hold.  The ramp retracted behind them, sparks popping as the blaster fire from below connected with the ship’s hull.

The shuttle swayed and shook as it blasted away from the eastern platform. It lurched hard to the right to avoid the laser cannons on the surface. The supply crates inside slid across the hold, one of them ramming Liatrix hard enough to knock her forward. She scrambled to regain her balance and reached out.

Jonas caught her arms and pulled her to him. He pressed her against the service access wall, a narrow passage off the hold. His gaze flitted around the hold and the corridors leading to it. A red hazard light blinked above them. Dressed in dark leathers, he smelled of spiced cigars just as she remembered.

“You’re safe, I’ve got you,” he whispered.

“Thanks.” Liatrix smiled. “Am I ever glad to see you—I can’t believe it—it’s _really_ you.”

“Never thought I’d see you again—when I’d heard you’d been killed...I—I didn’t want to believe it. I—” Jonas shook his head as if searching for what to say next and gazed down at her.

The patter of metallic feet clattered in the hold and their attention snapped toward the sound. 

“Declaration: Meatbags…can’t fly! Salutation: Greetings, I am HK-55,” The droid declared good naturedly and thrust a blanket at Liatrix. “I am fully armed and at your command.”

“Good to know,” she mumbled.

Balkar snatched the shock blanket away from the droid and wrapped it around her. His gazed fixed on the growing red stain colouring her shoulder.  “You’re hurt, let’s get this looked after.”

“We’ve gotta stop meeting this way,” Liatrix teased, “but it’s nothing that can’t wait. I have a million questions.”

“Hold on! I’m gonna punch it!” Koth shouted from the cockpit.

“We should see if they need us.” Liatrix steadied herself against the crates as she made her way to the front of the ship, Jonas shadowing her.

Lana whirled around. “Why are you still up and moving about, you need medical attention!”

“It can wait.  I don’t know if you’re aware, but the Emperor, _he_ killed my father.”

“Yes, Darth Marr’s death was felt by many.”

“For quite some time,” Koth added.  “Look it’s gonna be a short trip, maybe you should catch your friend up on what’s been going on the last five years.”

“Did you just say— _five_ years?” Liatrix teetered and collapsed against the back of the co-pilot’s chair.

Lana dashed forward to keep her from falling over. “She's unconscious.  The hibernation sickness and poisoning finally caught up with her. Take her to sick bay.”

Jonas and HK moved in to collect her.  “I’ve got this,” Jonas grunted and scooped Liatrix into his arms. 

Lana watched them disappear into the back of the ship and her brows furrowed. “Major, we could use your medical expertise. I want you to keep watch over her.”  

“Understood, my Lord.”

Lana took over Quinn’s place in the co-pilot’s chair.  “It would appear Tee-Seven managed to disable the guns.”

“Handy little astromech,” Koth muttered.  “We’re gonna have to set down somewhere, we’ve taken too much damage.”

The ship wove in and out of the lines of traffic between the spires and veered off into the sunset.

Koth pushed his goggles further up his forehead. “Quinn said she isn’t who we came for.”

“No she’s not—but she’s the one we need.”

“You don’t sound too happy about that.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about it right now,” Lana said, idly twisting the ring on her left hand.

 

((to be continued…))

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Four**

 

 

Liatrix lingered on the cusp between awareness and slumber.  Quinn and Jonas argued nearby.  She was tempted to dismiss them in favour of sleep until the unwelcome realization came, that with dreams, Valkorion would return. Her body jolted involuntarily to keep from drifting off.

“I’m needed here,” Jonas spat. “I _know_ her and she deserves to see a friendly face when she comes to not some stiff legged Imp with the bedside manner of a unark.”

“Did you just compare me to an acid spitting worm?”

“If the uniform fits…”

Quinn tugged his jacket down imperiously. “I have the situation well in hand.  I suggest you return to the bridge where you _might_ actually serve a purpose.”

Liatrix groaned and screwed up her face in annoyance at the harsh voices. 

“Hey, she’s waking up.”

“I’m not surprised, given your inability to keep your voice down,” Quinn snapped.

Jonas’s fingers twined with hers. “I’m right here, sweetheart. You’re safe.” 

“You’re _really_ here. I didn’t dream all that?”

“No. You’re not dreaming, I promise.” He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.

“Now that Darth Incarnal has regained consciousness to a _friendly_ face I recommend you return to the bridge.  The ship has sustained heavy damage and we may yet need to make an emergency landing.”

“Don’t you think I know that, Major Pain?”

“How very sophomoric of you, agent, resorting to name calling.”  Quinn scowled and turned away to recalibrate his medi-sensor. “We all have responsibilities here. Even _you_.”

“Jonas…it’s okay. Lana and Koth could probably use a hand. We’ll talk later, okay?” Liatrix murmured.

“A’right, you got it. It’s a date.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Yeah, me too,” Balkar whispered and shot an icy glare at Quinn before leaving.

Quinn glanced over his shoulder and when Jonas was gone he returned to his patient. “Darth Incarnal, forgive my haste, but given the situation, it’s imperative I work quickly.”

“Of course, Major.  Whatever you need me to do, just ask.”

“I appreciate that, my lord.”

Liatrix held her breath and stared at the ceiling as he performed his scans and applied kolto to the entry and exit wound on her shoulder.

“This may sting. I regret I have no numbing agent on board—our possession of this craft was somewhat improvised.  The original shuttle we arrived in, was destroyed prior to your rescue.”

“I thought I heard Koth say something about owing him a ship. I wondered.” 

“Take this for the pain,” Quinn said, pressing a lozenge into her hand. “I regret the dosage is on the low side, but any more and you may fall unconscious again.  I think we can both agree that would be dangerous, given the circumstances.”

Liatrix nodded and her lower lip quivered. The ceiling blurred and she turned her face away from Quinn.

“My lord—did I cause you some discomfort?  My apologies—I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t. It’s just—I can’t believe it,” she began, her voice growing small and choked. “Five years gone…five _years_ ,” she dabbed at her eyes.  “My children—I don’t know if they’re safe or where they are—they won’t remember me…they probably think I abandoned them. Oh, Major. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m burdening you with this. I hardly know you.”

“It’s perfectly understandable.” Quinn produced a kerchief from inside his breast pocket.  “Take this, my lord. Are you able to sit up?”

“Yes—thanks.” She took the kerchief and sat up with his help. “No one will say anything. Whenever I ask about my family, Lana sloughs me off. I have a bad feeling… _please_ , Major.  If you know anything, tell me.”

“It’s not my place.”

“Then you _do_ know something.” She turned to face him. “I’m begging you.”

Quinn’s eyes met hers and after a moment's hesitation, he nodded.  “Very well,” he began reluctantly. “You have a right to the truth. After the news of Darth Marr’s death, Darth Acina declared herself Empress and took it upon herself to raid the strongholds of other prominent Sith on Dromund Kaas.

“We were using Cresh Base to strategize but were forced to evacuate when Acina invaded. The children were in the care of your droid, HK-51 and an artificial intelligence known as Scorpio—a crew member of a cipher agent we were working with at the time. They took charge of the children and escaped, as did we. We were to rendezvous on Rishi, but shortly after our escape, we learned this Scorpio was in league with another agent—known as Cipher One. He was—a _traitor_ to the Empire—and all that remained of an organization known as the Star Cabal.”

Liatrix searched Quinn’s expression for some kernel of insight and sensed his trepidation and that he was hiding something. His gaze flitted to the medical device in his hand.

“Where are my children, Major?”  

He straightened stoically and met her gaze. “My lord, it is with a heavy heart that I must inform you, Scorpio—acting on Cipher One’s orders—murdered the children and destroyed the HK unit.  My crew and I, Lana Beniko and Agent Balkar—we searched for months, exhaustively, hoping to learn we were mistaken, but we found no indication otherwise. I’m sorry, my lord.”

Liatrix paled.  She stared blankly at the wall before her.  “My children are _dead_?”

Quinn nodded and remained silent.

She thought on Deston first—her _little bean_ as she liked to call him and then stern-eyed Sephna dressed in her frilly outfits. A sob caught in her throat. Her saber hand flexed, choking the kerchief in her hand. “Did you ever find this Scorpio?”

“No, my lord, but Lana did execute Cipher One.”

“And what of Acina?”

“Acina is dead as well, but the circumstances surrounding her death are uncertain. We believe Lord Scourge may have been responsible in some way.  She fell to her death from the top floor of her residence.”

“Scourge? Why wasn’t he with the children?”

“He was found unresponsive in the wreckage field after the battle with the Eternal Fleet—Darth Marr’s physicians and staff had been treating him—until Acina came. She took him—and it is our understanding that he was revived whilst in her care. He recovered and left Dromund Kaas, but not before liberating most of the slaves there.”

“Does he know about our children?”

“I don’t know for certain, my lord. I suspect that he does. Our last intelligence placed him on Dromund Fels—he’d started a colony with the slaves he freed.”

A spark of mad hope lit her eyes. She hopped off the examination table and started for the bridge. “Then that’s where we have to go.  I _have_ to see him. I have to tell Lana to set a course.”

“My lord—that’s not possible.”

She froze. “Why? Why not?” Her voice quavered.

Quinn’s gaze fixed on the floor between them.

“Why—isn’t—it—possible, Major?”

Quinn shook his head slowly, trying to find and assemble the words.

“Tell me!” Liatrix shrieked.

“Emperor Arcann and the Eternal fleet destroyed the colony five months ago.  There were no survivors.”

“No—no I can’t—I don’t believe— _not_ Scourge. He’s immortal!”  Liatrix shook her head.

“ _No one_ could have survived an aerial bombardment of that magnitude—the settlement was reduced to a crater. There were no survivors.  I’m sorry, my lord.” 

They stood together in awkward silence for what seemed like millennia.  She fidgeted with the kerchief Quinn had given her until she had it folded down to a small square.

“Major?”

“Yes, my lord?”

“I’m sorry—for putting you through this and for yelling at you—you didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”  She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes until they burned and felt like they were full of hot sand.

“No apologies are necessary, my lord.”

“It _is_ necessary. I know you were disappointed.  You didn’t come looking for _me_ —you were looking for your wife, the let down must’ve been unbearable.”

Quinn averted his eyes.  “You heard that,” he said, his tone both anguished and surprised. “Forgive me, my lord. It was a temporary lapse. I don’t often give in to emotional outbursts. Please be assured, that I’m quite gratified that we found you. The Empire needs you.”

“You don’t have to say that. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t. I know it’s a polite lie.” Liatrix unfolded the kerchief and pressed it against her cheeks until it was soaked through. “How long has she been missing—your wife?”

Quinn cleared his throat and scanned her again, diligently inputting the readings into his datapad.  “It’s been just over five years—she was part of the convoy accompanying you and Darth Marr.”

“I’m sorry. I doubt this will be very reassuring, but there were no other prisoners taken besides my father and me. I thought you should know that.  How did you two get separated?”

“She ordered me to take our crew back to Dromund Kaas. She was a gifted fighter pilot and remained as part of the squadron that engaged the Eternal Fleet.”

“She must have fought alongside Lord Scourge—my husband.”

Quinn nodded. “I shouldn’t have left her.”

“None of us could’ve predicted what would happen.  War is a sanctuary of regret. Did your people analyze the wreckage field?”

 “Yes, and they were quite thorough, but there was no sign of her—no biological readings, nor any signatures matching her craft—it’s as though she vanished without a trace.”

“Major…if we get through this, I’ll do everything in my power to help you find her.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you, my lord—” 

 

The shuttle shuddered and banked hard to the left, then the right and shuddered again. Smoke seeped into the med bay and the supplies toppled from their shelves and instruments skittered across the floor.  Flames ripped across the tiny bay, blackening the walls.

Quinn pulled the extinguisher from its bracket and aimed the nozzle at the fire. A blast of soapy smelling foam coated the burning partitions.

 Liatrix raced to the com.  “Maybe I can vent this smoke—”

“Brace for impact! We’re goin’ down!” Koth’s voice crackled over the ship-wide intercom.

The shuttle dove and buffeted against the rugged terrain of Zakuul’s outskirts. Liatrix and Quinn were thrown off their feet and slammed against the far side of the med bay. The fire extinguisher tumbled across the floor. 

A grimy green tinged wake splashed over the sides of the vessel as they careened to a stop. Rags of moss curtained the viewports and water seeped into the vessel.  The interior lights flickered and the damaged systems hissed and popped.

Quinn pulled himself to a stand and crossed the med bay at a half crouch to avoid the live wires spitting sparks above him. “My lord…”

Jonas threw himself into the med bay’s doorway.  “You all right?”

Liatrix nodded and scrambled to her feet. “Yeah…Major Quinn, are you okay?”

“It appears we’ve weathered the worst of it—what of the bridge crew?”

“Lana and Koth are fine. We gotta go.” Jonas jabbed his thumb back at the doorway. “We’re taking on water. Grab whatever we can use and let’s get the hell outta here.”

The ship lurched to one side as everyone on board deplaned.  They carried the supplies over their heads and trudged through the waist deep water to the bank.  The bog stunk of loam and rotten leaves and no sooner had they reached land, the swamp pulled the ship down with a loud sucking sound until only the posterior fin remained above water.

“Looks like you owe me _another_ ship,” Koth announced.

Lana dropped the tool kit and spare coils into a heap at her feet. “You stole that one—I don’t think it counts.”

“Keep it down—we don’t know what’s out there,” Liatrix hissed.

Jonas dropped his duffel and the weapons he’d snagged.  “She’s right. We’re gonna be stuck here until we can repair the shuttle— _if_ we can repair it. We’re going to need clean water…maybe get a fire going to dry out.”

“This bog is a graveyard for all kinds of wrecks—we might be able to scavenge some parts.  We’re gonna need to split up into teams,” Koth said.

“HK, do your sensors show anything we should be worried about?” Liatrix asked.

“Confirmation, master. I’ve detected a large technological construct due south, but I detect no power fluctuations or energy readings from the device.  Observation: there are dense concentrations of wildlife throughout the swamp.”

“Noted.” Lana paced. “Koth is right, we need to split up. Liatrix and I will see to finding potable water. Koth—you and Jonas investigate this construct, perhaps you can find something to get us out of this predicament.  Quinn, if you could see to our base camp and monitor communications, I’ve little doubt we’ll have company soon. Advance warning would be useful.”

“As good as done, my lord.”

“HK—I want you to patrol the area, keep any curious wildlife at bay.”

“Affirmation: locked and loaded.”

Koth checked his weapon and stocked his bandolier with spare ammo cartridges. “C’mon.”

Jonas frowned and ran his hand over the stubble darkening his jaw. His attention fixed on Liatrix and Lana. “I don’t think it’s wise for you two to go off alone.”

“Don’t concern yourself.” Lana hefted her duffel over her shoulder. “We’ll be fine.”

“Brrrrr,” Koth mocked, casting a smirk in Jonas’s direction.

“Shut up,” Jonas muttered and waded after him.

 

 

Liatrix and Lana trudged across the swamp in near silence for over half an hour. “Perhaps I can tap into one of the water lines feeding the city—it appears they run through here,” Lana said.

“Fine, but we need to talk. We might not get another chance.”

“I have to admit I’ve been dreading it,” Lana paused before an abandoned pumping station.

“Scourge and my children are dead.”

Lana’s pale brows furrowed deeply. “How? Quinn—did _he_ tell you?”

“I didn’t give him much of a choice and he agreed that I had a right to the truth.”

“Then you know the worst of it.  I’m sorry, we did everything we could.”

“He told me.”

Lana wiped the muck from the control panel with her sleeve. “I wish there was something I could say that would…make things easier.”

“There isn’t.”  Liatrix averted her eyes and assembled the portable filter.

“What happened after the _Erinyes_ was destroyed?”

“Valkorion was the Sith Emperor. My father and I both sensed it the moment we saw him.”

“Yes, and when you struck him down, a powerful wave ripped through the Force.  Which brings me to what I wanted to ask you—you seem different—is there anything I should know?”

“No.”   

Lana’s lips pressed into a thin line and her eyes narrowed. “Not long after we sensed the Emperor’s passing, Arcann made a broadcast, stating that an Outlander had assassinated his father, the Immortal Emperor. Then the bombardment of the core worlds began and within three months both the Republic and the Empire had been subjugated by the Eternal Empire.  We didn’t stand a chance against their fleet—they attacked both sides at once. Then they moved against the Hutts and the outer rim.”

Liatrix tossed the spanner into the duffel. “And then treaties were made…”

“Yes, how did you know?”

“It seemed like the logical next step, given our defeat.”

“I sense you’re hiding something, you haven’t been entirely forthcoming.”

Liatrix turned away, hefting the canteens over her shoulders. “We got what we came for, we should head back. Sun’s going down.”

Lana grabbed her wrist. “Damn you! Don’t walk away from me—I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on with you. You’re holding out on me.”

“Let go!” Liatrix wrested her arm free. “There’s nothing anyone can do for me.”

“The Empire needs you.”

“What makes you think I give a damn? I gave my life for the Republic and for the Empire and what did it get me? Everyone that matters to me is dead.”

“Not everyone.”

Liatrix watched her warily but refused to betray herself by asking.

“You’re grieving and angry and tired—it’s understandable,” Lana said, blocking Liatrix’s path. “But you’re our last hope—and you’re too much like your father to abandon the well-being of the entire galaxy. What would he say about all of this?”

“It’s not as if I can ask him. You’re going to have to do better than that,” Liatrix snapped.

“I can see you’re troubled—I sense your anger toward your father and I don’t understand it. I thought you two were close. I _want_ to help you. Just tell me what happened—all of it.”

“Arcann betrayed me—and I was put into carbon freeze for my trouble.”

Lana cocked her head.  “What do you mean by betrayed?  You weren’t in league with him, were you? Is _that_ your secret? Is that why you’re angry with your father?”

“It’s none of your damn business why I’m angry.”

“Secretive as ever,” Lana spat. “Don’t you see? I’m trying to be a friend to you, an ally—I’m an advisor, let me help.”

“You want to help? Then keep your nose out of it.  There’s no big mystery here, Arcann wanted the throne for himself—and I gave it to him.”

“You gave that monster the throne. Why?”

“I’d think the reason would be obvious—it meant I’d be able to avenge my father.”

“There’s more to it. You’re leaving something out,” Lana hissed.

“Why is it you always suspect there’s something _more_?

“Because with you there always is.”

“Arcann freed me and I killed his father—it would’ve been a fair deal.”

Lana’s eyes widened. “Why did Arcann go back on his word? If he wanted to blame his father’s death on you, why not execute you for it? Why did he _only_ carbon freeze you? Tell me—”

“Only? I lost five years of my life for a start.”

“Better than all of them.”

“You’d think.”

The swamp shimmered as though a mirage had descended over it and time slowed enough that Lana seemed a mannequin.

Valkorion’s spirit emerged from the petrified tree trunk jutting out of the swamp. He chuckled and clasped his hands behind his back as he closed the distance between them.

He eyed Lana and smirked. “Persistent, your friend.”

“She’s _not_ my friend.”

“Friend or not, she asks some rather pointed questions and I _must_ admit, I’m curious,” Valkorion said, hissing the last syllable like a serpent.

“You’re inside my head. You _know_ why.”

“Do I?” Valkorion purred.

“I’m not in the mood for your games. Leave me alone.”

“As you wish, but the truth has a way of presenting itself at the most inopportune moments.” 

Valkorion vanished and Lana regained her awareness of the present.  “What was that? I sensed—”

“I don’t know,” Liatrix cut in. “What I _do_ know is we don’t have time for this.  They’re going to wonder where we are.”

Lana narrowed her eyes. “You and Arcann…you work fast, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at, but I’ve never believed in wasting time, and that’s exactly what we’re doing right now. Skytroopers could be combing the swamps as we speak.”

“You’re impossible,” Lana growled.

“Maybe you need to see how it feels to be raked over the embers. Tell me about the ring.”

“Tell me why Arcann froze you.”

“So that’s how you want to play it.”  Liatrix trudged on ahead.  Lana’s com chimed and she paused to answer. “Koth, what is it?”

“You two need to hot foot it over to our coordinates. You’re _not_ gonna believe what we stumbled across, Lana. Maybe now, you’ll believe in destiny. This changes _everything_.”

“Unlikely. The only thing I’m interested in changing right now is my location and the company I’m keeping,” Lana muttered, dropping her voice.

“Feeling’s mutual,” Liatrix barked.

“Look, just get here.  This is big.  Koth out.”

“What are we waiting for?” Liatrix taunted. “Let’s go see what your _boyfriend_ has to say.”

“You have no idea how wrong you are.”

“Until you tell me different…Lady Vortena.”

“Fine. You really wish to know? I’m _married_.”

“I thought I sensed something between you.”

Lana stopped.  “Not to Koth. I’m married to _Jonas_.”

Liatrix turned away, her brows pursing as she lowered her gaze. “When did that happen?”

“Oh, just shy of four years ago—on Rishi.  After all, we’d been through, we decided we needed something good to happen for a change. I hope you can be happy for us.”

“I’d give almost anything if I could remember how.”

“I know you two were close once, I didn’t want it to come out like this, because of everything you’ve been through.”

“Jonas and I were over a long time ago. In fact, we barely were. I’m glad you’re happy.” She forced a smile and trudged on ahead the smile fading as she gained distance from Lana.

 

The sun had plunged below the horizon over an hour ago and Zakuul’s three moons took its place in the sky.  The swamp came alive with the chitter of ginx and iknayids. Wingmaw eyes flashed in the brush as they snarled at each other.

"Looks like this is it," Lana announced as they arrived at Koth's coordinates.

HK-55 emerged from the shadows of the durasteel behemoth, his blaster rifle nestled across his arms like a child.  “Masters, you’ve returned safely. Statement: Your delay was worrying.”

Koth, Jonas, and Quinn emerged from the belly of the ugly craft.

“Quinn was good enough to relocate the camp here,” Koth announced. “And we’ve got a few extra pairs of hands to help us out in return for a ticket outta here.”

Six exiles, four men, and two women carried supplies into the ship.

“What is this? I thought you said it would change everything,” Lana muttered as she walked the perimeter of the ship, her lip furling.

Koth beamed. “Show a little respect—this here’s the _Gravestone._ The only ship to have ever gone up against the Eternal Fleet and won. She’s been here this whole time ever since she disappeared centuries ago. This is fate, Lana, I’m tellin’ ya and with the help of our new friends, I think we’ve got just about everything we need to get her running.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Quinn muttered.

“Don’t be such a wet bantha, it’ll work,” Jonas said. 

Liatrix rubbed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “We have a lot to do and little time to do it in. We should get started.”

“It worries me that things are coming together a little too easily,” Lana said.

“Let’s just get this done,” Liatrix said in a low voice. She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them again.

Quinn tapped at his scanner. “My lord, are you unwell?”

“I’m fine. Just a long day, that’s all.”  Her gaze followed the exiles.  “Are you sure we can trust them?”

“Yeah they want to get away from Arcann about as bad as we do,” Koth said, butting between Quinn and Liatrix to retrieve his toolkit.

“I hope you’re right,” Liatrix warned.  “I don’t have the energy to argue. I suppose anything to get us out of here faster.”

“Why don’t you take a load off—we’ve got more than enough help now,” Jonas offered.

“I can’t sit around while everyone else is working. You of all people should know that—but thanks.” 

“That’s the spirit.  There are some fuse panels that need repair. If you take care of that, I can start on the engines,” Koth suggested, handing her a pair of goggles and a fusing pen.

Liatrix nodded and disappeared inside the Gravestone.

“I think I should check on her, maybe give her a hand,” Jonas said.

Lana clasped his forearm. “No. Leave her be—she needs time alone to process everything and I need help with the fuel cells.”

Jonas looked down at her.  “I’ll only be a minute.”

Lana frowned as she watched him retreat into the dark underbelly of the _Gravestone_.

 

((to be continued…))

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Five**

 

 

There was a kind of peace that came with mundane and repetitive work. Repairing fuses demanded just enough focus to keep her from dwelling on the nightmare she had awakened to.

The icy sparks issuing from the fusing pen slowed until they formed one small but spectacular firework.  A rush of cool air filled the alcove as if someone had just opened a window on a frosty autumn night.

Liatrix scowled at the pale apparition emerging from the wall. Valkorion drew closer, the space between them dwindling.

She deactivated the fusing pen and pushed her safety glasses up. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Oh spare me that look.  We are indivisible you and I.  Where _you_ go, _I_ go.”  Sharp amber eyes panned over the interior of the dilapidated craft. “The _Gravestone_ …not entirely what I’d envisioned. I expected more…as I do from you.”

“Is that your way of saying I’m a disappointment? Because if it is, I don’t care.”

“No need for hostility. Whether you believe it or not, my intent is to see you flourish.”

“Just spit it out. Say what you came to say.”

“You’ve had a taste of my son’s empire…and the extent of his _reach_ and Vaylin doesn’t believe in restraint. They can be defeated, but _only_ if we work together.”

“Fine.  I’ll hear you out.”

“Progress, at last. It’s simple really—you must be willing to accept my help and you will have to come to this acceptance sooner than you think.” Valkorion’s words unfurled in a decadent vibrato, refined and dangerous—the intoxicating language of a deity.

Liatrix couldn’t deny the entrancing effect of his voice and shook it off. “Is that a warning?”

“Wait—and you will see. The time _is_ coming.” Valkorion whispered as he faded away.

“Stop being so damn cryptic,” she snarled, but it was too late, he was gone.

Liatrix swore and just as she was about to resume welding, a familiar presence came up behind her. His shadow towered over her and she turned around to face him. “Jonas…”

He glanced around with less certainty than she was used to seeing from him. He cocked his head and leaned in conspiratorially. “Was someone here just now?”

 “No. What are you doing here?” She asked, slapping the fuse box shut.

“Came to see if you needed a hand—and to make sure you’re okay?”

“Keeping busy helps. You seem at loose ends, something wrong?”

His leather jacket creaked as leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. The faint scent of spiced cigars wafted into the alcove. “No. Having you back makes all the difference.”

Liatrix fixed her gaze on him intently. “You know, you never did say what you’ve been up to the last few years.”

“Nothing much—running missions, scamming credits to fight the Eternal Empire, y’know—surviving.”

“Is that _all_?”

“Lana told you, did she?”

“I guess congratulations are in order, even if I’m about four years late to the party.”

“The _party_ ended a long time ago. It’s more of a wake now.”

“What happened?”

Jonas looked down.  “The truth?”

“I think we’ve been through enough that we can cut the bantha fodder.”

“You’ve gotten blunt.”

“That happens when you’re trapped in your mind for too long with less than desirable company. Tell me,” she said, her tone softening.

Jonas ran his hand over his jaw. “It’s not just one thing, it’s _everything_. Arcann, this damn war. Before the Eternal Empire, we’d win some, lose some—but there was always hope. But now? It’s like we’re crushed under a boot, you can’t move or breathe—I’ve had enough,” he said, shaking his head. “I’d give just about anything to lie on a beach somewhere with a drink in one hand and a cigar in the other.”

“That does sound pretty good—except for the cigar part,” Liatrix cringed.

“I remember, you’re not a fan of the smoke. I might’ve quit if…tell me—you ever think about Alderaan? How we talked about leaving all this behind.”

Liatrix averted her eyes. “Don’t take this the wrong way—but I haven’t thought about much of anything except my children…my father, Scourge. I’m trapped inside my own head.” The heat began to build under her lashes and the alcove blurred.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured and set a hand on her shoulder, allowing it to trail lower until it fell away. “I think about it all the time, what might’ve been if only you’d said yes.”

She missed the cockiness in his voice and the devil-may-care glint in his eyes. The Eternal Empire’s occupation had stripped him of it, something she’d never thought possible.  “You’re tired, that’s all this is.  You’ve been fighting non-stop…for what the last four, five years? You’re not a machine.”

“Yeah, well tell that to Lana.  She’s farking obsessed. Arcann this, Arcann that, Eternal Empire blah blah blah. I’m at the end of my tether,” he said, slashing the air in front of him with the heel of his hand. “If only you’d said yes…neither of us would be in this mess.”

“That sounds almost like you’re blaming me.”

“No—no sweetheart, that’s not what I meant at all,” he said, voice softening. “Just wishful thinking. But now that you’re here, I can’t help but wonder—maybe its fate—a second chance for us to do what we should’ve in the first place.”

He eased in and gently clasped her shoulders, his lips close enough that she could feel the bite of static and heat between them.

“Jonas—no,” Liatrix whispered, her hand splayed over his chest. “It’s _not_ right. You need to talk to Lana about this. Not me.”

“Maybe you’re right.  I owe her that much—then maybe _we_ can get through this together.”

“I think you’re misunderstanding me. There is no _we._ She saved me and I’m not going to be the reason for her marriage breaking up.”

“You’re not. It’s been all but over way before this.”

She reached up to touch his cheek. “Listen to me. I can’t do _this._ Not now—maybe not ever. I can’t be close to anyone right now. Don’t throw your marriage away—tell her what you told me.  _Make_ her listen to you. She _loves_ you, I sensed it when we were in the swamp before.”

Jonas sighed. “I’ve tried talking to her. She always says _after_ we’ve defeated Arcann _after_ order’s been restored to the galaxy. It’s always _after_.  There’s a huge possibility we might not survive this. None of us are getting any younger—well, except _you_ , you’re as beautiful as I remember…”

“Heh, carbon freezing—not a beauty treatment I’d recommend,” she deadpanned.

A chuckle escaped his grin. “You always knew how to cheer me up. C’mon don’t say no again. Let’s _ditch_ this party.”  He braced himself against the wall, his arm gating her inside the alcove.

“I can’t. I have more reasons to destroy Arcann than Lana ever will. He’s emperor because of me and I have to put an end to that.”

“Looks like I’ve lost both of you to Arcann.”

“I care about you, Jonas, I always have and always will.  I want you to be happy, but—”

“Then come with me,” he cut in.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but you’re giving me no choice. I _can’t_ be with you, I don’t need the complication. Fix it with Lana. At least try, that’s all I’m asking.”

“Then who can you be with?” He demanded, his words as sharp as a tech blade.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Can you be with Theron? Is that who? You’ve been pretty careful not to bring his name up. There can only be one reason for that—you’re free now.”

Liatrix cranked her arm back and slapped him hard.  “I _told_ you—I can’t be with _anyone—_ not you, not Theron. No one. I just can’t. Not now. Maybe not ever. What do I have to do to get through to you?”

Jonas cradled his jaw. “Guess I had that coming. I’m on edge. I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

The sound of a determined gait echoed in the corridor and another shadow fell across the alcove. “My lord? Is there a problem? Do you require my assistance?” Quinn asked.

Liatrix stepped around Jonas. “No, we’re finished here, thank you, Major. How are the repairs coming along?”

“Slowly, but we are making progress, my lord.” Quinn glanced at Jonas and frowned. “The fuel coils are still an issue, your assistance would expedite matters.”

“Getting off Zakuul _is_ the priority,” Liatrix said.

“Yeah,” Jonas grunted. “Anything else we should know about?”

“As a matter of fact, there is, if you have a moment.” Quinn turned his data pad toward Liatrix. “Tee Seven has been in contact.  The droid has information that would be of use, given our discovery—apparently, there is someone on Zakuul who possesses extensive knowledge of the _Gravestone_ and possibly the technology required to interact with it for ease of repairs and upgrades.”

“The Lady of Sorrows? Strange name for an arms dealer? Is that what she is?”

“In part—but her influence goes well beyond arms, she practically governs Zakuul’s seedy underbelly—from deathsticks and petty acts of sabotage, to piracy and arms deals, there is little criminal activity that this individual isn’t a part of.”

 

Liatrix scanned the data. “This is risky—not sure we can trust an underworld figure. With any luck, we won’t need her. Let’s hope we can get this bucket off-world before sunrise. Do you have anything else?”

“Potentially.  Tee Seven has proven to be quite an asset.”

“He’s a good friend,” she murmured. Her last interaction with the droid edged into her memory and she felt a pang of regret. “I have a few things I’d like to ask him.”

“I’ll attempt to re-establish communications. After you, my lord,” Quinn stood aside with an upturned palm.

Liatrix glanced back at Jonas but said nothing and left.

 

Jonas slammed his hand against the durasteel wall. “Why didn’t I listen?” He swore and kept his head down as he stalked out of the _Gravestone_ , completely unaware of the shadowed presence lurking behind the plasma transvertor housing to his left.

Lana peered out from behind the trunk of ancient cooling coils and watched Jonas retreat into the balmy night. Her com chirped, but no visual sprang up from the unit.  “Lana here, go ahead.”

“I’m here like you requested. Figured I should warn you before we meet. Given the company you’re keeping, I thought it best to avoid any misunderstandings. They won’t be pleased seeing a knight show up,” the hardened female voice crackled over the device.

“Give me five minutes, I’ll inform them.”

“Understood, Senya, out.”

 

Lana navigated the _Gravestone’s_ dim passages until she arrived at the communications center.

Quinn and Liatrix poured over the transmission and glanced up almost in unison at the doorway.

“Lana…you might want to take a look at this, Tee Seven sent us this encrypted message.”

“Yes, but later, there is someone I need the both of you to meet—an ally.”

Liatrix eyed Lana warily and nodded.  “I suppose we can always use another one of those.”

“Good, I hoped that would be your response.  Why don’t you go on ahead and I’ll com the others to join us outside.”

 

The group huddled around a pile of salvage the exiles had gathered.  HK-55 picked off several curious iknayids that strayed too close to the camp and Jonas kept his distance as he put the finishing touches on the outer fuel coil assembly.

“So what’s all this about, Lana?” Koth asked.

“I want to introduce you to someone I’ve been working with these last several months. I believe she’ll be an asset and provide us with valuable insight into the Zakuulan Knights.”

As if on cue, a woman in white and gold armour emerged from the darkness.  “Lana.”

“Good to see you. Everyone, this is Senya,” Lana replied.

Koth drew his pistol.  “What in Scyva’s mercy is this? Why is _she_ here? Have you lost your mind? She hunted me and my crew like wild akk dogs for years.”

“Koth—relax. And for pity’s sakes lower your weapon.  She’s not here for you. She’s not hunting you anymore. She’s here to help, and we need as much of that as we can muster.”

Liatrix took a step closer. “You got one of the Knights to defect.”

Senya nodded. “Not all of us follow Arcann blindly.”

A dropship hovered above the camp, releasing three dozen skytroopers and a half dozen knights.  The troops strode forward, weapons at the ready.

“Relax? You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me. You don’t follow Arcann huh? What the hell is that then? You brought them straight to us!” Koth snarled and pointed up at the sky.

Senya shook her head. “I have no quarrel with them, but if they’re going to stand in my way—” She unclipped a thermal detonator from her belt and lobbed it into the first squadron of skytroopers to hit the ground.

The explosion rocked the camp, spraying soil, rock and skytrooper body parts throughout the blast radius.

“I see you’ve found another pragmatist,” Liatrix said.

“Stow the chatter, prove you can fight,” Senya grunted.

Liatrix snorted and ignited her lightsaber. “And _you_ prove you’re worth the trouble.”

Jonas, Koth, and HK took cover behind the mound of scavenged parts and fired at the incoming troopers, blue and green bolts slicing across the camp. Quinn covered the screaming exiles as they ran, half-crouched to the _Gravestone_ for shelter.  He tumbled under the exchange of plasma bolts and took cover behind a large stone to open fire.

Liatrix, Lana, and Senya deflected the incoming fire and pushed forward to drive the enemy back.  The knights charged, their pale blue lightsabers casting a ghostly glow over the swamp as they advanced.  The two groups clashed at the edge of the camp, weapons growling and gnashing as they traded blows.

The more troopers they defeated, the more seemed to pour in from drop ships above.

“There are too many of them!” Lana shouted.

“Keep fighting!”  Liatrix gritted her teeth as she cut down a knight.  Using the Force, she summoned the dead warrior’s lightsaber and catapulted herself forward, both blades whirling as she sliced through the incoming troops.

Senya leapt high, to engage the next squadron. 

The knights tore off in opposite directions and came around to encircle Lana.  They edged closer to her, the tips of their weapons dangerously close to coming within arm’s length.

The jungle echoed with the roar of drop ships releasing more troopers into the swamp.  Their thrusters swaying the dark leafed palms and grasses with the mad fury of a tornado.

Liatrix pushed back the knight before her and spun around to take out a skytrooper coming at her from behind.  Her body ached and her eyelids were heavy. Fatigue gripped her and her mind swam with voices that might’ve been real.  “Just a bit longer,” she muttered under her breath, calling to the Force to sustain her.

More knights came from all directions and closed in on the camp. Liatrix roared, summoning the Force and adrenaline to fight through the thick of it. Her gaze panned over to the others.  Lana battled against the encroaching knights and Senya raced to her side. Koth winced and hugged his arm after taking a hit and Jonas pushed him back to take his place.  Quinn and HK-55 stood back to back, fighting both iknayids and troopers threatening to board the ship.

“Knights! Zildrog’s wedge!” The squad leader commanded.  Instead of advancing, they reached out with the Force to encircle Liatrix with thick durasteel plates, effectively using the exile’s salvage pile to trap her and the others.

 “We have the Outlander,” he announced boldly over his com. “You may kill the rest! We have the Outlander, High Justice!”

“Get out of there, save yourself!” Lana cried as a knight leveled his saber staff mere inches from her throat.  Her eyes grew wide at the grim realization she was about to die.

A cool breeze filtered into the durasteel snare and time slowed until it was suspended.  Valkorian appeared between Liatrix and the others, his brow arched just enough to underscore his hubris.

“What now?” Liatrix snarled.

“I’m here to present you with an opportunity.  You are outnumbered. Death comes for your _ally_ , but I must know, will your pride and stubbornness outweigh your pragmatism?”

“Get to the point!”

“I can save her—all require is the briefest moment of control. Accept my help—or watch her die. Choose quickly, time waits for no one.”

“You _knew_ this would happen—this is what you were alluding to before. You could’ve warned me.” Liatrix panted.

“And what would that have accomplished? I’m not here to spoon feed you, I’m here to forge you into a being worthy of greater things. Make your choice. I leave it to you.”

Liatrix’s gaze fixed on Lana.  The blonde was spent, her face red and sweaty from battle. The knight’s blade lapped over the pale stalk connecting Lana’s head to her shoulders. One more second and it would be over for Lana. Her eyes held the spark of fear and hope that came with the end, acceptance, and expectation of being cut down.

For all her strength and talent, Liatrix knew she could never reach Lana in time.  Every action, every option took seconds to execute and Lana didn’t have that long.

“I owe her my life,” she murmured and glanced over at Valkorion. “Take care of it,” she commanded bitterly.

“Gladly.”

A black-purple aura seeped from Liatrix’s body as if it weren’t enough to contain the power churning within. Her spirit tumbled as though it were slammed to one side by a massive wave, powerful enough to level a world in one swipe.  Allies and enemies alike were swept up in the tide as it ripped through the swamp.  The knights and their reinforcing skytroopers rose into the air, their bodies shuddering as they shriveled and disintegrated into ashen husks, their armour the only proof that there had been a living being inside once.

Liatrix screamed inside her mind as her body absorbed the Force power of the dead strewn around the swamp. The voices screaming their last on Ziost reared themselves as new ones joined them. She was no longer a mere observer, but a seated guest glutting on the feast.

Darkness swirled in her mind, but it was not Valkorion’s power she sensed, but another sleeping power roused to duty.  A cold as miserable as the wastelands of Hoth permeated her marrow and then it was gone. The power taken from the dead knights and skytroopers faded quickly and she realized why trillions of lives were needed to fuel the Emperor’s quintessence—human life was a fuel that burned all too briefly.

The hunger turned its attention toward her allies and she threw herself in front of them.  The darkness in her mind pushed back at Valkorion’s spirit. His control dwindled and she was left stooped over and gasping as she reclaimed herself. 

The wave dissipated and Liatrix took in greedy gulps of air to soothe the frenetic rhythm of her heart.  Valkorion remained in her mind, but his presence seemed far away. She walked toward the camp, her gaze shifting incredulously at the devastation.

Lana was the first to come to and find her feet.  “What—what was that? What happened to the knights?”

Jonas and Koth were next to join them and Quinn and HK stood by the terrified exiles, who emerged from the _Gravestone_ one by one.  “We were on our way to help but—I don’t even know,” Koth stammered. “What just happened?”

Liatrix swallowed.  “Status report? Is the _Gravestone_ capable of takeoff?”

Quinn glanced back at the vessel before answering.  “Propulsion and navigational systems are operational, as is the Omni-cannon. Overall, the _Gravestone_ is operating at 70% efficiency—hardly ideal, but enough to escape.”

“Then let’s go,” Koth barked.

Lana frowned. “Wait—where’s Senya?”

Koth threw up his hands and winced. “You can’t be seriously thinking of taking that piece of work with us, not after _that_.”

“She wasn’t responsible—it was an unfortunate coincidence.”

HK cocked his blaster rifle. “Interjection: Many more hostiles are approaching. Permission to defend with extreme prejudice?”

“No. We’re getting the hell out of here. Right now.  Koth, Jonas, prep the engines and get the essential systems online. Quinn set a course—I don’t care where just so long as it’s not _here_.  Lana, Senya, you’re with me—it appears we’re going to have to give the _Gravestone_ a slight push,” Liatrix said.  “Everyone else…get on board and sweep for hostiles.”

“Let’s just hope we can get it out of that muck without tearing it apart,” Lana said.

“We will,” Liatrix assured as she summoned the Force with the others. The vessel rocked and ropes of pale green water wept from the hull. The swamp gurgled and churned as the ship came away from the surface, the loamy sludge bubbling beneath it until the ship hovered several meters off the ground.

Whoops and cheers sounded inside as the ship broke free of Zakuul and Liatrix, Lana and Senya boarded the ancient behemoth.

No one dared to speak as the ship rose higher and higher into the atmosphere—as if one spoken word would somehow burst the tenuous bubble around them.  The pale rosy light of dawn gave way to the darkness of space, filled with countless stars and ribbons of blue nebulae cutting across their heading.

Koth was the first to break the silence and with his attempt to lay claim to the ship, came a swarm of barb-shaped vessels blocking their egress.

“The Eternal Fleet,” Senya muttered.

“Why aren’t they firing?”  Koth asked.

Liatrix stepped closer to the viewport and stared out at the geometric precision of the enemy craft. Every time she saw these ships the final moments aboard the _Erinyes_ came to mind.

Arcann’s presence declared itself across the Force and for a breadth of a moment, she felt as if she were standing toe to toe with him—opposites trapped in a mirror and stupefied by the reflection shining back at them.

She sensed his hesitation and her lip curled up at the corner.  Her right hand opened and closed involuntarily as she sensed another goading him—Vaylin. His hesitation gave way to ego and pride and she understood what would happen next and turned to Koth. “Shields up. Here it comes,” Liatrix said in a low voice.

“Shields are up, but no tellin’ how long they’re gonna hold.  HK see about the hyperdrive and we need a gunner.”

“I’ll do it,” Jonas barked and tore off to take control of the artillery.

Flames licked across the bridge.  Lana tugged an old extinguisher out of its cubby and took aim.  “Dammit, it’s empty.”

“Jonas,” Koth began over the intercom. “Omni cannon is charged and ready. See that capital ship front and center?”

“Already on it,” he replied.

The _Gravestone_ lurched and groaned as the cannon emerged out of the _Gravestone’s_ durasteel jaws and took aim.

The Eternal Fleet fired.  The _Gravestone_ lurched and flames engulfed portions of the hull.

“Jonas, hit it!” Koth roared.

Liatrix held her breath as she watched the projectile collide with the Eternal fleet’s capital ship.  A blinding light lit the galaxy as it blew apart.

“Direct hit!” Jonas howled.

Koth’s jaw dropped.  The capital ship’s demise spread like a virulent disease.  The geometric formation of the closest ships crumbled leaving them floating aimlessly like debris in water. “Five targets, ten! I can’t keep up…The legend is real! With this, we could take the whole fleet.”

The blinding light grew until it filled the viewscreen, casting a cool greenish glow over the cockpit.

HK glanced up from his com.  “Statement: The hyperdrive now meets minimum functionality requirements.”

“Then get us out of here now,” Liatrix ordered.

 

((to be continued…))

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Six**

Few secrets endured on a starship, only the most tenaciously guarded remained intact.

For all their strength, the timeworn durasteel walls could’ve been made of paper. Any sound dampening material between them had disintegrated ages ago allowing every squeak, knock, and voice to travel unimpeded through most sections of the _Gravestone_.

The ship drifted through the darkness. Only a scant few stars marked the gateway to the quadrant. Liatrix was beginning to understand why the wanted and unwanted alike sought refuge on Asylum. It may as well have been the end of the known galaxy.

The chronometer in the medbay indicated the pirate port was still several hours away. She stared up at the ceiling, waiting for the final course of treatment to finish cycling through her system.

The bridge was silent except for the HK and Koth, who had volunteered for the watch. An occasional growl or snort hinted that Koth dozed, leaving the droid to make up for the slack.

In another part of the ship, a pair of voices began as whispers and steadily grew louder.  Liatrix caught herself dozing and forced herself to focus on the voices hissing through the vents.

“You wanted to talk, so talk,” Jonas grunted. His tone held the same impatience as a pot ready to boil over.

“I think we both know things between us haven’t been going well for some time.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“I have a solution in mind if you’ll hear me out.”

“Where am I gonna go? And don’t say the airlock like last time.”

“I wasn’t—not _yet_ at any rate. Do you want to hear my suggestion or not?”

“Fine.”

“When we reach Asylum, I want you to go to Nar Shaddaa. I have a contact there for you to meet.”

“That’s no suggestion, that’s an order. So—you’re sending me away.  Why _now_? Jonas protested.

“I never thought I’d see the day you’d balk at going there of all places—knowing your fondness for it.”

“Whatever it is, can’t it wait?”

“No time like the present, I always say. Think of it as an extended vacation.  Do as you like. Your objectives might take some time to complete.”

“And what would those be?”

“My contact operates as an information broker. He may have information on the whereabouts of Master Kira Carsen and Dr. Archiban Kimble.”

“What? No! Absolutely not. If I never saw that guy again it’d be too soon.  What the hell do you want _him_ for? The last thing we need is one of Liatrix’s exes hanging around. Is this why you’re sending me away? Because of her?”

Liatrix sat up and winced as she accidentally tugged on the IV feeding her liquids and synth-blood. She cocked her head and strained to eavesdrop.

“If we’re going to defeat Arcann, we’ll need more help.  Major Quinn is of more value as a strategist than a physician and we need both. Not to mention, we could use some time apart—to think, regroup—and yes, if I’m being honest, she _is_ part of the reason,” Lana said.

“Right. I _know_ you. You’ve got something up your sleeve and your lackeys are always the last to know. What’s your motive?”

“You’re _not_ my lackey. As for my motive, did it ever occur to you, that I want what’s best for us? You’re exhausted. You’ve been under tremendous strain, that isn’t lost on me.”

“It was until now—”

“I won’t lie. I heard you and Liatrix in the corridor. I heard all of it and while you may be willing to throw our marriage away, I’m not.”

“If anyone threw anything away, it’s you.  I _tried_ to tell you, but you never listen. I can’t believe you _spied_ on me.”

“Not on purpose—look, I know I’ve made mistakes, but all I’ve done is for the galaxy and for us.”

 “That’s it right there…The galaxy is always first with you.  Millions of strangers you’ll never meet have always meant more to you than I do.”

“Damn your selfishness. That’s _not_ true. If the galaxy is destroyed, would we not be destroyed with it? Think, Jonas.”

“I have been. A lot.”

“Will you do this? It would be of benefit—to both of us. Whatever you may be thinking, I want you to know that I want to salvage our marriage.”

“Hmph. Who’s the contact?”

“He was at one time, one of Imperial Intelligence’s finest until he ran afoul with a member of the Dark Council.  I don’t know all the details. He was reassigned as a deep cover operative many years ago—his name is Darmas Pollaran.”

“Pollaran! Oh, this just gets better and better.”

“So you know him.”  Lana’s tone carried a note of surprise.

“I want to stick a blaster barrel between that bastard’s eyes.  Yeah.  I know him.”

“I thought you might enjoy his company—if nothing else enjoy a few hands of Sabacc together. I understand he’s quite good at it—whether he’s as good at it as you are, remains to be seen.”

“Cut the crap, Lana.”

“Will you do it? Will you meet with him?”

“Doesn’t look like I have much choice, do I?”

“I would appreciate it. And Jonas? I love you—think kindly of me while you’re away…”

His reply was spoken by the apathetic hiss of the door as it shut behind him.  After his footfalls faded to nothing, Lana gasped and broke down sobbing—audibly and steadily until fatigue muted her sorrow into silence.

Liatrix dabbed at the corners of her eyes and eased back into her pillows. Chances were good that Doc and Kira were still alive, but that didn’t buoy her spirits for long. With thoughts of the living, came the inevitable thoughts of the dead. She wept, continuing the mournful elegy Lana had started.

She tugged the thermal coverlet over her head and buried her face in the pillow to smother the sound and wept until her cheeks were flame and her throat raw.

Sleep threatened, but she resisted. Even as her legs twitched involuntarily and her eyes grew heavy and grainy, she fought. She fell back on her childhood game and imagined herself on a lush green world, dappled with shimmering lakes. There was a small but elegant home overlooking an emerald lake skirted by evergreens and wildflowers. Her children skipped along the beach, feet splashing in the foamy surf. A door clattered shut behind her and strong arms enveloped her, but when she turned her head to smile back at him, there was only darkness and cold. Shivers stole over her body and she lost the battle to stay awake.

_A voice called from the darkness, “Why do you resist so?”_

_The voice was followed by a figure in tattered black robes that offered hints of the gleaming black armor underneath—deception made manifest._

_“You…” Liatrix hissed. “I thought I was rid of you.”_

_“Such hostility,” the wraith chided. “Perhaps a more familiar setting might make our reunion more—pleasant.” With a flourish of fingers, the darkness shifted into a temple and the rough-hewn altar of Tulak Hord rose between them._

_Liatrix glared at the wraith and folded her arms defiantly._

_“No? Perhaps if you were more comfortable.” The clothes she wore melted away, leaving only milky flesh covered by strands of translucent shadow._

_“I am not your plaything.”_

_The wraith placed his hand over his heart as if swearing an oath. “But you invited me…”_

_“I did no such thing.”_

_“You hosted such a grand feast! I must express my appreciation to the chef—dread, fear, and pain—so artfully entwined. You’ve made a young man of me. Will you not call me Master as you once did?”_

_“I have no master. I already have one ghost in my head, I don’t need two.”_

_The Wraith passed through the altar and loomed over her.  “If not Master, then slave. Submit and I will tell you of the things you hold most dear.”_

_“I’ll never submit to you.”_

_“Perhaps a more familiar presence…” The wraith shifted into the muscle girded likeness of the former Emperor’s Wrath. Scarlet eyes blazed smugly and the corner of his lip twitched up almost imperceptibly. “Will you submit to me now?”_

_The wraith’s gruff baritone gave way to Scourge’s sly and sensuous tenor—a voice she’d always had difficulty resisting._

_“Let us speak of Quesh and the darkness and my desire for you. I want you. I have always wanted you. I could take you on this altar and you would forget…everything. Do you wish to forget, my Lord Emperor?” Scourge’s eyes smoldered as he twisted his tendril ring and Liatrix recoiled at how convincing Hord could be. And how tempting._

_“Stop it.” Liatrix squeezed her eyes shut and turned away._

_“Perhaps your childhood friend—the one you never wanted to lose…”_

_“I had no friends.”_

_“You had one. Look on me and remember—”_

_Liatrix couldn’t resist. She opened her eyes and a boy in Jedi robes stood before her, a blue Peko Pekos chick sitting on his hand._

_“Trixie…W-would you like to hold him?” The boy tried for calm, but his voice wavered like a shutter in the wind._

_“He left me…” Liatrix frowned, her tone unimpressed._

_“Yes, but he returned—watch.”  The boy became the man and stood before her—his thumb hooked into his belt as he assumed the self-assured pose he’d practiced for so long. Warm golden eyes peered out from under the messy womp rat hair and when he spoke, his voice warmed her inside like a campfire._

_“Theron?” She gasped. “That was you?”_

_“I should never have let you go that day on Coruscant. That was the day I lost you, I’d give anything if I could take it back.”_

_“That’s not him—it’s you.  Stop trying to trick me. He’d never say that.”_

_“Oh, wouldn’t he? Are you so sure? Perhaps a happier time—a certain dock on Rishi…or perhaps you have a taste for the bittersweet—your goodbye on Yavin’s moon? Or when Ziost withered?”_

_“Stop it! Damn you, I said stop it!”_

_“If not the spy, perhaps this...”_

_Darkness fell across Yavin’s fourth moon and against a backdrop of stars and sparkling nighttime waters, a tall spike-shouldered silhouette stood, with his back to her._

_She fought tears but lost the battle.  To all others, he was Darth Marr, but to her, he was, Father and when he spoke, joy and longing and adoration filled her heart until she thought it might burst._

_“You shouldn’t have come,” his likeness began, “and yet I hoped you would—but I am not the man you remember.”_

_The words were her father’s, but they were spoken out of order—chosen for maximum effect, not sincerity. Still, she craved to hear his voice again and she caught herself relenting. Then, as if slapped she returned the hardness of her reality. ‘He’s manipulating you,’ she reminded herself._

_She straightened and narrowed her eyes, refusing to give the wraith any ground. “You’re not him.  You’ll never be him.  He’s dead!”_

_The ghost of Tulak Hord reclaimed his own form and bent to look directly into her face._

_“I know you as surely as you know yourself.  I’ve known your father and mother, your lovers and your children.  I could give you all you desire and that longing you’ve felt since your first awareness of it would be fulfilled. I ask so little of you, submit to me. Do as I will…”_

_‘Even the gentlest threat, is still a threat,’ Liatrix thought. “No! Never! You were my father’s equal and mine.  I will not submit to you. Not now, not ever.”_

_“If only you believed those words. I know you don’t. You fear me—as well you should. In knowing you as I do, I also know how to hurt you.”_

_“You can’t hurt me, I’ve lost everything.”_

_“No?  Then ask yourself, why your father will not appear to you—but you already have. It’s a question that haunts you.  Do you wish to know the answer?”_

_Liatrix glared at him but said nothing._

_“You need not speak it, child, I can see it in your eyes, so I will tell you. He won’t show himself to you because he has betrayed you—he is far too busy trading in dogma with your most hated enemy.  He has forgotten you.”_

_“Liar!” Liatrix snarled, fists bunched at her sides._

_“Of course you won’t believe me, but the truth has a way of making itself known. Time is an ally as much as an adversary. Submit to me. You said you have nothing left to lose.”_

_“Only my dignity and you won’t be getting the better of that.”_

_“Submit…at least consider what I offer and never forget I know your strengths and weaknesses. I know how to hurt you and I will.”_

_“I’ll never give in to you,” she wailed._

_“We shall see.” The wraith growled his frustration and receded into the darkness. The growl grew higher in pitch until it became a klaxon, persistent and annoying. Something slithered up her arm as she whirled around to find the source.  Light took over the darkness and someone gently took her wrists to restrain her as she woke._

“My lord…wake up.  You’ll do yourself a harm—for your own good, wake up, my lord.”

Liatrix blinked away the lingering sleep and sat up.  “Major? What are you doing here?”

“It would appear you were having a nightmare—and you’ve disengaged your IV and set off the system alert because of it.”

“It hurts.”

“I would imagine it would. It seems you’ve completed your treatment and your recovery is assured.  How do you feel, my lord?”

“Better…better _now_.”  Without thinking, she threw her arms around him and hugged him hard.

His body tensed.  “My lord—I don’t think it’s appropriate for you and I to embrace. You are my superior and I am—m-marr…ied.” His arms behaved like they were separate mindless entities, reaching for her one moment and resisting her the next.

“I’m sorry, but please…just for a moment, would you indulge me?”

“Of-of course, my lord.  I suppose comfort is a basic human requirement during times of illness and uncertainty, and as your physician, I suppose I must act to ensure your betterment.”  He drew her close and she buried herself into his shoulder. He held her gingerly as though she were a stick figure made of glass.

He allowed himself to close his eyes and breathe her in—her scent reminding him of crisply starched and pressed uniforms and the cold deep lakes of Balmorra. What surprised him most was the sudden and inexplicable nostalgia for a world he’d hated. Instead of mountains of paperwork, he thought on the jagged peaks standing guard over the lonely lakes and the handful of rare days off that he’d spent in solitude to clear his mind.

“Are you all right now—my lord?” He whispered against her hair.

“I think so, yes. That was kind of you, thank you.”

He held her a moment longer—a moment _too_ long, as a presence appeared in the doorway of the medbay.

They parted as if shocked apart and whirled on whoever darkened the entrance.

Jonas scowled and stormed down the passageway without saying a word. HK rounded the next corner and prattled after him, but he paid the droid no mind.

“Observation: Meatbags can be unnecessarily rude!”

 

Liatrix winced and looked up at Quinn.  “I should talk to him.”

“Why?”  The question was brusk and held a note of annoyance and left Quinn before he could stop himself.  He cleared his throat and straightened.  “Forgive me, my lord…that’s not my concern.  I’ve overstepped.”

“It’s all right. I think he just wanted to say goodbye.”

Quinn nodded and stood aside to let her go.  His brows pinched as he tried to piece together what had just happened and how to relieve his mortification. He snatched up his mediscanner and took solace in running a diagnostic on it.

 

Liatrix chased Jonas down the corridor and caught his elbow. “Wait…did you need something?”

He shook his head and hefted a duffel over his shoulder.  “Nah. Just came to say you won’t be seeing me for a while.  As soon as we dock, I’m catching a shuttle to Nar Shaddaa.”

“So, this is goodbye—for now.  Take care of yourself, okay?”

She reached up to touch his cheek, but he caught her wrist. Her birdlike bones twitched against his palm.  He recognized the reflex—she was worried or agitated or both. He dropped her arm and shot a look back at the medbay. “What the hell was that back there?”

“Nothing.”

“Didn’t look like _nothing_ to me.”

“Goodbye, Jonas. Stay safe.”  She started for the bridge, and he didn’t follow.

 

Koth’s voice crackled over the intercom.  “Hold on tight folks.  Asylum, here we come.  Docking clamps, engaged. It’s gonna be a bit bumpy!”

The _Gravestone_ lurched and the grinding bite of metal against metal boomed through the ship along with a chorus of friction sparks.

Senya jogged to catch up to Liatrix. “Do you have a moment?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“I have some contacts here—I’d like to introduce you to them later.”

“What sort of contacts?”

“Friends of mine—from Zakuul—they’re highly regarded and would make fine allies. Arcann has made enemies of them.”

“Fine. Tell Lana, she’ll likely want to tag along.”

“No—I think this time, it’s best if it’s just you and I.”

“You do realize how that sounds,” Liatrix said, narrowing her eyes.

“I know you’ve no reason to trust me, not fully, not yet…but I want to stop Arcann and Vaylin as much as you do.  In that, you can trust.”

Lana slid in behind them.  “I need time with my own network—alone.  Take HK with you, as an added precaution.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Liatrix mumbled. “I’ll meet you on the surface in twenty minutes. I need to change.  Hopefully, no one threw my clothes in the incinerator.”

“HK had them cleaned and pressed during the night.  You’ll likely find them in the medbay locker,” Lana said.

“Thanks,” Liatrix smiled slightly and started back toward the medbay.

 

The boarding ramp lowered and light seeped into the belly of the _Gravestone_.  The stale smell of long-haul spacers whooshed into the ship and the rumble of the gathered onlookers followed.  They laughed and spoke as if bickering, but they were in agreement about one thing: the _Gravestone_ was a damn ugly ship—the ugliest they’d ever seen.

 

((to be continued…))

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Seven**

Asylum smelled like the inside of a slave transport. The yeasty stench of sweat and urine hung in the air, along with traces of cheap liquor and even cheaper blaster cartridges. The foggy atmosphere from the gas giant below was dense enough to hide the port but had the unfortunate side effect of trapping fumes and didn’t allow much in the way of fresh air circulation.

The shadowport didn’t lack for pirates, but it did lack the charm of a Port Nowhere or Rishi. The floating refuge was little more than a series of durasteel boxes fused together by bridges and platforms. There were no real or neon palm trees to brighten the landscape and no ramshackle towns to relax in.  The refuge was utilitarian to a fault, designed solely to accommodate black market trade and those looking to escape the brutal fist of Zakuulan authority.

Senya entered a passcode into the keypad securing a deserted warehouse located on the easternmost corner of Asylum. The door clattered upward and jerked to a halt just high enough to allow Senya, Liatrix, and HK inside.

The women crossed the threshold first, HK trailing a couple of meters behind with his rifle laid casually over his arm.  The droid’s orange eyes flared, but before he could protest, he crumbled under an electromagnetic pulse.

Liatrix whirled on Senya. “You’d better not be responsible—it won’t end well for you if you are.”

“The droid can’t be a part of what must happen here. You’re free to go whenever you like, but if you want the help of my people, you’ll stay and hear them out.”

Liatrix’s thumb grazed the activation switch on her lightsaber. Senya had fried HK, possibly beyond repair—trusting her was a risk. There was no telling what the former knight had in store.

Something in the older woman’s eyes had troubled Liatrix ever since their first meeting—as if she’d seen them in another face, but the connection refused to form.  The notion lingered like a forgotten word on the tip of the tongue.

Cutting Senya down was an option in light of what she’d pulled and yet Liatrix couldn’t deny her curiosity. An old adage murmured warnings from the corner of her mind.

_Curiosity killed the Manka cat…_

Valkorion manifested at Liatrix’s side and strolled alongside her like an old friend. “We’ve come _all_ this way, let us see where it leads,” he whispered conspiratorially.

Though the setup reeked of a trap, curiosity over-ruled her first impulses. She glanced up at Valkorion and quickened her pace to catch up to Senya.  “Who are these people of yours? More knights?”

“No, they’re Scions—visionaries who can see into the past and future. They believe in fate and act according to their visions.  The Scions and the knights once protected Zakuul together, but the Scions no longer serve Arcann. Whether they choose to serve you, remains to be seen.”

Liatrix strode further into the dimly lit warehouse and a robed silhouette emerged a few meters ahead of her, backlit by a pale white light just bright enough to obscure the source.

A crusty male voice came from the robed figure. “The Force whispers to us of fate—but you are a void.  We must determine what role you will play in Arcann’s downfall. Come closer, let me see you.”

Liatrix strode toward the man and recognized him immediately. He had eyes the colour of pale moons, sharp enough to cut through his wilted visage and his brows were locked together from a lifetime of squinting through time.

He kept his distance and raised his hands to keep her at bay. “That’s far enough.” His eyes shifted as if he were reading her face like a book, but the frustrated twitch of his mouth suggested whatever was written on those pages was done in an ink he couldn’t see.

“I remember you. You’re the soothsayer Arcann was bickering with before my father was murdered.”

“Yes. Even in shackles, you dared to challenge him. His encounter with you left him unsettled. It worried him then and worries him still. I am Heskal.”

“What do you want from me?”

The Scion stepped aside to reveal the source of light behind him—a ghostly image of Arcann with his saber drawn. “You seek to remove him from the Eternal Throne. He stole years of your life, but he stole far more from the rest of us. His destiny is to fall, that much we have foreseen, but his fate remains unclear. When he’s at your mercy, what will you do?”

“His fate is to die on my blade. There will _be_ no mercy. See if you can find that in your crystal ball.”

Senya stepped in front of her to face Heskal. “He will _not_ escape justice for the lives he’s taken.”

“A thousand Scions lie dead because of him. Blood demands blood, do you not agree?” Heskal roared.  “Answer me!”

Liatrix took a few steps back to put distance between them. Valkorion appeared by her side, “They question her devotion to them because they cannot see it.  Ask yourself _why_.”

“She’s hesitating because Arcann means something to her. There’s something off about her, it’s been bothering me for a while.” Liatrix mumbled under her breath. “Why is she protecting him?”

Valkorion chuckled, the sound low and dangerous and she suspected he already knew the answer.

Senya sidestepped Heskal’s demand for vengeance and her evasiveness irritated the Scion. An army of Scions emerged from the dark perimeter. What was an ordinary warehouse became an arena. Lightsaber after lightsaber ignited to frame the oval with a red glow.

“If you are not with us, you stand against the tides of destiny! Arcann and Vaylin _must_ die,” Heskal challenged.

“And they will,” Liatrix replied. “They sentenced themselves to death the day my father died. They will fall and with them, the Eternal Empire.”

Senya ignited her blade and Liatrix glared at her.

Heskal’s eyes glowed like white-hot beacons. “She tied her fate to yours when she agreed to bring you here.  Fate must not remain uncertain.”  Despite her ready saber, Heskal backhanded Senya hard enough to drop her.

Arcann’s image vanished in a fog and Heskal stormed toward Liatrix, his army of Scions at his back.  “I will know your fate, even if I have to cut you open to see it.”

Heskal’s lightsaber came alive and Liatrix ignited hers to block the impact of his blow, but the impact never came.  He stood before her, lightsaber poised to strike, but was caught in time’s web along with his army.

Valkorion loomed over her.  “His argument with you is pointless and destructive. I can end this with no further bloodshed, but you must accept the gift of my power.”

“I’m getting bored of this.  Offer _accepted_.”

“As you wish,” Valkorion drawled. He strode forward, his essence vanishing within her.

Liatrix flung her arms out, fingers splayed as Valkorion’s power surged through her. Purple tinged smoke roiled around her body, building in force and speed like a tempest to lift her off her feet. Splinters of lightning leapt between her upturned palms and her eyes glowed violet.

The web holding the Scions frayed. Time resumed. Heskal’s saber came down, slicing through empty air instead of gnashing against Liatrix’s blade.  The blazing light in his eyes faltered and returned to normal. His eyes held a tinge of blue in them and in that moment his brooding gave way to confusion and a vulnerability she didn’t expect to see in the soothsayer.

His mouth fell open and his eyes grew wider still as if an epiphany had struck him.  He stared at her face, the words finally taking shape in a mad stream—page after page filled by destiny’s scribe and Heskal _understood_.

Liatrix released the volley of lightning building between her hands and Heskal swung his blade to block the incoming bolt. His lightsaber splintered in his hands and the resultant wave threw him and his army off their feet. Pieces of his unspooled weapon rolled and bounced between them like pearls tumbling free from a broken necklace.

She advanced on him and the Scion slowly pushed himself to a stand.  He held his hands up in surrender.  Liatrix leveled the tip of her lightsaber against his chest.

“Tell me, Heskal, have you foreseen the moment of your own death?” Liatrix purred.

Senya flipped to her feet.  “Don’t kill him, _please_ ,” she pleaded. “We _need_ the Scions.”

“Like a hole in the head,” Liatrix snarled. “Bet you didn’t see _that_ coming, did you?”

Heskal shook his head. “Not until this very moment.”

Liatrix sneered. “I didn’t think so.  I have no use for any of you.”

The Scion army recovered quickly. “The blood of Tyth flows through you,” their commander began. “Don’t make us spill it.”

Liatrix sensed several others behind her—allies, not Scions. Her lip edged up at the corner.

“Stand down! Now!” Lana bellowed and stormed across the warehouse with Koth at her side.

“Tora found HK wandering around damaged and confused,” Koth said. “Figured you might need an assist.”

The hulking pirate, Lem, and HK arrived next and then Tora, the mangy engineer Liatrix had freed earlier. Three more of Koth’s pirate crew fell in behind them, pistols at the ready.

Liatrix backed away from Heskal and moved closer to her allies. “I suggest you do as she says.  Your lives mean nothing to me. Surrender, or they open fire.”

Heskal nodded and his army retracted their weapons.  “Every moment, even this one is predestined. Everyone here played the part fate demanded of them.  I ask you this one last question: What future do you see for this galaxy, once Arcann is gone?”

“I’ve sacrificed my entire life, protecting and rescuing this galaxy. Maybe if _I_ ran things, I wouldn’t need to run myself ragged. I might actually get to have a life.”

Valkorion whispered in her ear, “He will not stand in your way.”

“I know now what it was blinding us to the future,” Heskal announced. “Our Immortal Emperor lives—within _you_.”

Liatrix shifted her gaze like a Sabacc cheat caught with an Idiot’s array up her sleeve. “You’re raving mad! You’re a lunatic, nothing more than a seedy fortune teller.  Your Emperor…is dead,” she stammered. “I would know, I killed him. Remember?”

Heskal stood taller. “Valkorion’s spirit lives within you.  Behold, the Dragon of Zakuul! We rush to your service, great one.” 

The Scions knelt like servants to their monarch.

“No! That’s not possible…” Lana blurted.  “You should’ve _told_ me.  You had ample opportunity. Why didn’t you say anything?  I deserved to know.”

“Why? So you could start digging around in my skull like you wanted to do to Master Surro? That’s not going to happen.”

Liatrix brandished her lightsaber and frowned. “Stay back, _all_ of you.” She pointed the blade at them in warning and took several steps backward to put distance between them.

“Don’t come any closer, I’m warning you.  You saw what I can do.”

“Our time here has given me insight,” Heskal said quietly. “You _will_ destroy the Eternal throne but many will suffer and die before that victory.”

“Your problem. Not mine. I don’t believe in fate anymore,” Liatrix growled and took several more steps back toward the exit.

“It’s your destiny!” Heskal insisted.

“It doesn’t matter, none of it matters, we’ve won,” Koth announced.  “If Emperor Valkorion lives inside this Outlander, there’s hope for Zakuul. There’s hope for all of us.”

Liatrix shook her head incredulously. “Don’t you get it?  You’re _food_.  You’re all food for him—and just like a herd of nerfs grazing in a field, you’re oblivious! He’s devoured trillions to fuel his immortality—and _you_ think he’s a great guy.” She laughed ruefully.  “Commandant Iven was right.”

Koth shrugged for an explanation but didn’t get one.

Lana approached Liatrix cautiously, patting the air in a gesture of calm. “She’s right.  The Emperor is a threat to _all_ life everywhere. We need to figure out how to separate you from him.”

“Good luck with that. It’s more complicated than you think. We’re done here.”  She shot a look at Heskal.  “Join or don’t.  I don’t care—but stay the hell out of my way. I’m leaving.” 

Liatrix backed away and as she was about to bolt, Senya called out. 

“Wait—there is one more truth that must be told.  I withheld the true reason I pledged myself to you in this trial.  I wanted to understand the person who would kill Arcann and Vaylin—my son and daughter.” Tears filled her eyes and she bowed her head.

Valkorion laughed and clapped his hands together.  “She _told_. How delightful.” Something like mirth lit his eyes and Liatrix glared at him.

“ _You_ could’ve told me that!” Her gaze locked with Lana’s briefly and then she fled.

“Don’t let her get away! Zakuul needs her!” Koth shouted and started to give chase.

“No, Koth. Let her go,” Lana said, catching his elbow.  “There are things she needs to work out first. She needs time and we have much to discuss.”

 

Liatrix bolted headlong out of the building and squinted against the bright light outside.  She hopped the railing to the level below and zigzagged through the crowds of refugees and pirates to get to the docks.

A fuelling droid drifted away from a shuttle it had just filled and she leapt high to clear a stack of shipping crates waiting to be loaded on board.  The shuttle, named the _Sky Princess II_ , was compact but appeared capable of long-distance travel. 

Liatrix strode past the droids tending the vessel and crept up the boarding ramp to find the craft mercifully empty, save for the easily dispatched service droid, an old Two-Vee model.

She dropped into the state-of-the-art cockpit and flicked a line of overhead switches to retract the docking clamps. The star chart bloomed from the center console, casting a pale green glow over the console. The ship rose slowly enough to earn the attention of the owner. 

The surly pirate drew his blaster and aimed for the thrusters to handicap the ship.  “D’you have any idea who I am? When I catch you, I’m gonna break your teeth,” he roared, shaking his fists.

Quinn emerged from the _Gravestone_ to complete the refuel and resupply of the ship.  The pirate’s harsh gravelly voice carried across the din as he swore a blue streak and let off another round of blaster fire after his ship. Quinn glanced up at the sporty shuttle cutting through the foggy atmosphere and frowned, but quickly dismissed it.

Liatrix rolled the vessel to dodge the incoming shots and sped off.  “Damn this thing can move,” she marveled, as the pale blue atmosphere of the gas giant gave way to space. “Navicomputer—set a course for the Esstran sector…”

 

Lana, Koth and the others descended the shipping dock where the _Gravestone_ was docked.  Security droids and a small crowd had formed on the neighboring dock.

“Looks like we missed some excitement,” Koth mumbled. “Tora…you wanna double check the exhaust manifold, I don’t think it’s hooked up to the converter properly.”

“On it,” Tora barked.

Quinn glanced up from his datapad. “It appears someone stole that pirate’s shuttle—no doubt an everyday occurrence in a place like this.” His gaze panned over the group. “Were there complications?”

Lana nodded. “You could say that.  We have a lot to discuss—when you’re finished here, kindly join us inside. We need to decide our next steps.”

“Should we not wait for Darth Incarnal—I trust she will be along shortly?”

“No, I’m afraid not,” Lana began. “I think _she_ may have been the one who commandeered that shuttle.”

“My lord?”

“It’s complicated, I’ll explain inside.”

“Of course, my lord.  The _Gravestone_ has been cleaned, stocked and re-fueled. When Tora completes her inspection, we’re ready for take-off.”

“Good work,” Lana murmured and started up the ramp into the belly of the ship. The bickering had already begun by the time she reached the bridge.

Koth threw his arms up. “You should’ve told us.  You’ve been lying this whole time!”

“I’m not denying what Arcann and Vaylin have become. I _will_ find a way to stop their bloodshed,” Senya argued.

“How could you _not_ see this coming?”

“Valkorion and I never agreed on how to raise the children and when I decided to leave, they chose him. I couldn’t force them to leave their father.”

“Huh. You give us this whole ‘woe is me’ story and expect us to trust you? You expect us to take your word for it?”

“Ask him yourself—if or when we find the Outlander. I never expected her to cut and run.”

“We need to get her back. We need Valkorion back. He wasn’t fixated on war,” Koth said.

“Valkorion is a world devourer, but I do agree that we need to find Liatrix, the sooner the better,” Lana added.  “But where to start looking?”

“I’m gonna check on Tora.  We’d better get moving.” Koth shot a glare at Senya as he pushed past her.

“I’ll be _somewhere_ —meditating,” Senya snapped.

Quinn took his station on the bridge.  “I think I know where she may have gone.”

Lana glanced up.  “Any insight you have would be helpful, Major.”

“Dromund Fels.”

“You think she’s gone to the site—where Scourge’s settlement was?”

“It’s understandable, that she would wish to see it for herself. If our positions were reversed, that’s what I would do.”

“I think you may be right. When we get the all-clear from Koth, set a course for Dromund Fels.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

 

Whorls of electric blue engulfed the _Sky Princess II_ and Liatrix relaxed into the cushy captain’s chair.  Something poked into her outer thigh and she shifted to retrieve a leatheris folder. “Let’s see who you belong to…Hmph—Andronikos Revel.  Well, Captain Revel, you do have good taste in ships.”

Valkorion manifested in the space between the captain and co-pilot’s chairs.   “You’re wasting time.  I fail to understand why you’ve chosen to abandon your destiny.”

“You couldn’t have mentioned Senya was the mother of your children? Liatrix snapped. “You could’ve at least told me _that_ much.”

“I did urge you to think and for a moment, I thought you might’ve guessed the truth. I wanted to see what she would do. Ultimately she chose to put her faith in you.”

“No—you’re wrong.  That wasn’t faith. She wants to save Arcann and Vaylin. I don’t. She thinks by ingratiating herself to me, that I’ll spare them. It’s not faith driving her—it’s a mother’s love.”

“How cynical of you, but if that’s what you choose to believe, I cannot stop you.”

“Let’s talk about things we _can_ stop—like you keeping secrets from me.”

“It appears you’ve been keeping a few of your own. After all these years, I finally understand how your father was able to oblige me—defy me. I assigned one insurmountable task after another and yet he always succeeded.  Survived the unsurvivable.  It confounded me for years. Now I know the truth.”

“You were a fool to kill him. He would’ve moved worlds and galaxies for the Empire.”

Valkorion chuckled. “Now I know where you get your bravado—and how you were able to challenge me as no other has.”

“Yeah, about that.  Next time you decide to chow down on every living thing in sight, be careful who you invite to the feast, huh?”

“Interesting.  And here I thought the two of you had some sort of understanding.”

“He’s a nuisance I could do without and _you_ woke him up.  Thanks for that,” Liatrix said snidely.

“Instead of chiding me, you might try asking for my guidance.”

“Like you’re going to tell me how to get rid of him.  What’s to stop me from doing the same to you? Trust me, I’d like nothing more than to shut you both up—for good.”

“We both know that I am no mere _ghost_. And unlike Hord, I’m here to see you succeed. Can he make such a boast? I’ve always given you the choice, have I not? We share a mutual respect.”

“Right,” she drawled. “So what would you suggest I do?”

“Long ago—a Lord Erghast attempted the ritual Hord perfected. He failed, but he discovered how to bind ghosts instead.”

“And you’re implying that anything bound, can be unbound?”

“Precisely.”

“I’ll think about it,” Liatrix muttered nonchalantly.  “We’re dropping out of hyperspace and I want to be alone.”

“Don’t think too long—destiny waits for no one.” Valkorion’s voice hung in the air after he vanished.

The craft stuttered as it emerged into the Esstran sector, home to the Dromund system.  She peered through the viewport as the craft approached the dusty world.  The ship sank into a medial orbit and a sizeable crater came into view.  Her fingers dug into the armrests until her knuckles turned white and she sprang out of the chair.

A vision of the Eternal Fleet flashed before her eyes, its cutting rays wounding the planet while she slumbered. An echo of the lives lost rippled through her and she reached out for the back of the chair to steady herself. She closed her eyes to clear her mind and when her vertigo faded, she bolted from the cockpit to the ship’s tiny quarters.

The pirate owned a wide variety of extreme climate gear, including a set of coarsely woven tan and cream desert robes. She wrapped the turban like cowl around her head and pulled up the gauzy neckerchief over her mouth and nose. 

The bright interior lights turned the viewport into a mirror and she stared at the robed being staring back at her. The sight compelled her to ignite the saber Lana had given her during their escape from Zakuul.

The vibrant blue lightsaber paired with the rough tawny robes carried her back in time.  She could almost hear the younglings with their practice sabers, their giggles seeding tears in her eyes.  She retracted the borrowed saber.  “That’s not who you are—it never was.”

She returned to the bridge and took the _Sky Princess II_ through the dust-filled atmosphere and landed several meters from the edge of the crater.

The winds whipped her robes and she tugged her goggles over her eyes as she disembarked.

Dust sifted over her boots with each step she took toward the crater.  The surface was cooler than she remembered—much cooler.  She shuffled alongside the perimeter of the maw and paused to look up at the muted sun.  Decades would pass before the sun’s rays would fully warm Dromund Fels again.

The cliffs beyond the crater rose up like a scar and by the amount of rubble and sift at the base, the blast had no doubt bred groundquakes and aftershocks for weeks after Arcann’s attack.

Her robes shivered over her body as she walked, the wind feeding her momentum.  It wasn’t so long ago Scourge had brought her here.  She remembered the broken down house, his mother’s upturned cooking pot and his father’s desiccated corpse and the day they’d buried it.  All of these things had defied the centuries only to be destroyed by Arcann’s tantrum.

Scourge had called this place home and like his family’s enduring relics, he too was gone. Nothing remained, save for dust and bits of sand fused into glass. She knelt and scooped up a handful of the russet sand.

Arcann destroyed everything he touched and what he couldn’t destroy he preserved, perhaps relying on time to do what he couldn’t.

Her jaw clenched until her back teeth gritted and her hand closed into a fist around the dirt.  She stared into the abyss. She expected to cry but no tears came and she wondered if she’d finally exhausted the supply.  Perhaps she had finally cried enough and that time was past.

How like Heskal she was at this moment—peering into a void, searching it for meaning and finding none.  Fate had given the old man the answers he sought. Her answers would be harder to find.

The sun sank below the horizon and plunged the world into a sandy twilight.  Dust wafted across the beams of _Sky Princess II’s_ forward floodlights and the wind turned cold with the impending night.  Whispers from the darker recesses of the world hissed their summons but she refused to indulge them.

“I won’t be a slave to destiny,” she muttered.

 

The thrusters of a descending vessel whipped the sand and dust into a series of whirlwinds. The behemoth darkened the horizon until a large searchlight blazed to life and panned over the surface. 

Liatrix remained by the edge of the crater even as a set of footfalls crunched toward her.  She didn’t need to turn around to know who approached.

Lana stood beside her and both women stared into the seemingly bottomless maw for a long time.

“How did you know where to find me?” Liatrix said, finally breaking the silence.

“Major Quinn—he thought you might require the finality.”

“He was right.”

Lana held her hand up to shield her eyes.  “I understand why you left.”

“Do you?”

“I can see how it would be overwhelming—the Scions aren’t exactly subtle and if this proves anything it’s that secrets aren’t healthy—for any of us. You shouldn’t be dealing with Valkorion alone.”

“That’s not why I left.  I left because I refuse to believe that fate or destiny control my life.  _I_ control my life.  Not you, not anyone else and if you can’t trust in that, then I guess this is goodbye.”

“Nothing about this is ideal—but I trust the sincerity of your vengeance. Will you return to us?”

Liatrix nodded.  “It’s not as if I have anything better to do.”

“Promise me one thing—you will tell me if Valkorion proves too much to handle?”

“It’s not him that worries me—but yes, I’ll tell you—so long as you don’t lobotomize me in my sleep. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Let me reactivate the _Sky Princess’s_ service droid—and set the autopilot back to Asylum.  Captain Revel was pretty pi.ssed.”

“Andronikos Revel?”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“He was once involved with Darth Nox.”

Liatrix quirked a brow.  “I wonder whatever happened to her—if she’s still alive.”

“Oh, she’s very much alive, she took over the Empire after Acina—she’s _Empress_ Nox now.”

“Nox? What about Ravage and Vowrawn, Mortis?

“Ravage is dead.”

“Can’t say I’ll miss him. Whatever happened, I hope it was painful.”

“Regrettably, I don’t know all the details, but I do know that Vowrawn and Nox were present when it happened. I suspect they had a role to play.  Mortis continues to serve as Minister of Law and Justice.”

“Then we should go home.”

“We can’t.  Arcann has monitoring stations orbiting key worlds including Korriban and Dromund Kaas. He’ll be searching for you and Imperial space is the first place he’ll look—which is why we shouldn’t linger.”

Liatrix clutched the dirt in her fist more tightly. “If we’re going to reclaim the galaxy, we need to do so in secret—and we’ll need a base of operations.”

“Agreed.”

 

((to be continued…))


	8. Chapter 8

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Eight**

 

Empress Nox stood before the empty cage and pouted.  She traced the aurodium-plated bars with a gleaming red talon and sighed.  A pair of hands alighted on her shoulders, fingertips playing over her collar bones so lightly she shivered.

“My dear,” Vowrawn crooned against her ear, “still missing your favorite pet?”

She thumbed the engraved tag dangling off the spiked beast collar in her left hand. “He was a good pet. I shall miss his whimpering and drooling and how he insisted on being called Supreme Commander.”

“Oh, that pitiful bluster I could’ve done without, but,” he kissed her throat, “it always amused me how he liked to watch us. I think it excited him.”

Nox laughed and tossed the beast collar into the cage. “Oh, it did. Do you know, I once caught him trying to burp the worm when he thought he was alone?  Of course, there was only one thing to be done when I discovered that…”

“I remember,” he said, cackling. “You’re positively fiendish and I do adore you for it.” He kissed her exposed shoulder. “I’m surprised you didn’t burn it off. I expected the maker would’ve been more _generous_ with a brute his size…”

“Disappointing wasn’t it?” Nox laughed and wiggled her pinky finger at him.

“Ah, such memories—perhaps it was a mistake to sell him back to the Republic after all. He was almost a member of our twisted little family at that point.”

Nox picked at her nails with her thumb. “Still, it tickles me to no end that his ransom rebuilt our Citadel well beyond our expectations. And do you know my favorite part of it all?”

“I would think the solid aurodium monument of _you_? I daresay my sculptors outdid themselves.”

“It’s divine, but better still—the riots. Coruscant is practically eating itself _alive_ ,” she clapped her hands together with glee. “With what they paid _us_ , they could’ve fed and rehomed millions. Do you think he’ll keep the piercings?”

“Oh, he’d be a fool not to, my dear, they gave him much-needed character. But let us not lament. What’s done is done. Perhaps it’s time I found you a _new_ pet.”

“My birthday _is_ coming up.” Nox turned in his arms and fluttered her lashes at him. “And I have given the idea a great deal of thought.”

“Have you a name chosen already?”

“I think ‘Not-Jace’ has a lovely ring to it.”

“I approve—it honours the old boy and sets a standard for the new pet to aspire to.”

“How is it that we’re always in such perfect agreement, you and I?” She asked, tracing squiggles over his chest with the tip of her fingernail.

Vowrawn took her hand and pressed a kiss to her bejeweled knuckles. “Because our black little hearts beat as one.”

“You always know just what to say, my Emperor.”

“Sssh. Only when we’re alone,” Vowrawn’s gaze strayed toward the door.

A timid knock fell on the door to their bedchambers and two loud breaths followed as if whoever on the other side was working up the nerve to enter.

“Come!” Vowrawn called out.

A powder blue Twi’lek male crept in, bowing profusely as he approached.

“Ta’lin,” Nox frowned and checked her chrono.  “My manicure isn’t due for another three hours. Leave us.”

“But, Empress, there is a Sith demanding to see you at once.  He will _not_ leave.”

“Well, you should’ve _made_ him leave. Why do we even keep you around? Nox snapped.

“Because I can colour between the lines?” Ta’lin offered.

“You impudent little worm,” Nox growled and Vowrawn clasped her shoulder. “Remind me to electrocute him later,” she mumbled over her shoulder at Vowrawn. “Who is this Sith, Ta’lin? Who would have the nerve to demand so much?”

“I-I don’t know. H-he looks like he crawled out of a Sarlacc.” The Twi’lek jerked his head nervously.

Vowrawn folded his arms. “Did you think to ask his name, m’boy?”

The Twi’lek’s lekku twitched. “He said it was—Scurvy? Or maybe it was Scrounge? No Scour. Definitely Scour. Or…maybe was it Scourge? I can’t remember, please don’t hurt me.” He threw himself to his knees and clasped his hands penitently.

Vowrawn whispered behind his hand to Nox.  “Do you think further electrocutions wise? There wasn’t much between those lekku, to begin with.”

Nox pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. “Perhaps you’re right,” she conceded. “Do you really think it could be Scourge?”

Vowrawn twirled his chin tendril thoughtfully.  “There’s only one way to know for certain, my dear. Ta’lin, m’boy, fetch some food and drink for our guest and inform him, that we will be along to meet him presently.”

The Twi’lek scrambled to his feet and bowed profusely the entire way out of their chamber, never once turning his back to them while in their presence. The door thumped to a close and Nox paced, her thumbnail digging into her full lower lip. “What if it _is_ him?”

Vowrawn’s mouth curled diabolically at the corners.  “Then perhaps we will be one step closer to solving my little problem at last.”

“The Hand has been after you for years. It amazes me they didn’t arrest you on Zakuul.”

“Ah, my dear, it was well worth the gamble. His children know _nothing_ of his power base. They have all the finesse of rabid gundarks in a spice den. All that matters to them is the throne and their fleet and while formidable, _cunning_ has always proven deadlier than might.”

“It’s not just those blasted Zakuulans that worry me.  We both know it’s only a matter of time before Jadus makes a play for all we’ve built.  The last thing I want to hear is his blather about the democratization of fear. ‘Only _I_ am eternal, blah, blah, blah, _yawn_ ,’” she mocked.

 “No need to worry my little vixen. Even Jadus has his weaknesses.”

“If you say so.”

“Do I detect a hint of doubt?”

“No Veles, not doubt—more like _worry_ that your luck will run out.”

“So serious suddenly,” he kissed the tips of her fingers and pressed her hands to his heart. “I never rely on luck, only my wits, my dear. If lady luck wishes to join me, wonderful, but she is a fickle mistress. I prefer more reliable company.”

“So what will you do?”

“I think it’s time I made amends—and how better to apologize than with a gift?”

Nox’s brow arched into a sharp point. “Do you think it will be enough? _She_ turned on them and they blame you for it.”

“Pah,” he smiled and waved her off. “It’ll be enough to get inside and that’s all I need.”

“Why stop with entry? Why not _become_ The Hand?”

Vowrawn beamed impishly. “It seems we’re of one mind.”

“Just don’t forget that rest of you belongs to me.”

“Never fear, you’ll always have dibs on the best part.”

She slipped her hand into his robe and smiled. “There it is,” she purred. “The gift that keeps on giving. Are you certain it’s worth the risk?”

“My beloved Feravai, if not for our trusty Wrath, I would not be standing here today with my most entertaining attribute in your loving hands. I take my debts seriously—a lesson I learned from our old friend—I do miss him—immeasurably.”  

“I know.” She flicked the tiny bell adorning his length and smirked. “The Wrath of Old and the Wrath of New—which do you suppose would win in a cage match?”

“Hmm, an interesting conundrum, my dear. He has the advantage of size and experience, but I believe her to be the more ruthless.”

“I’m not sure it was wise to turn away that handsome captain of hers…”

“Astute as Quinn is, he would only get himself killed.  The Hand wouldn’t suffer his scrutiny, nor can we afford to have him underfoot—and if anything were to go wrong, well, suffice it to say, it would be best kept secret.”

“I agree.” She gave the adornment another flick and smiled at the tinkling sound before pulling her hand out of his tented robes. “I suppose we should go see if it’s really him.”

“One moment, I wouldn’t want him thinking I’m quite _this_ excited to see him,” Vowrawn looked down and chuckled.

 

Scourge glared at the Twi’lek servant.  Ta’lin opened his mouth but a squeak was all that came out.  The goblets and dishes of fruit and cold meats on the tray between Ta’lin’s hands clinked as if a minor tremor shook the palatial apartment.  The Twi’lek cleared his throat in an attempt to regain his composure, but when his nerves deserted him completely, he abandoned the tray of refreshments on the low table and fled.

“Hmph,” Scourge snorted, his lip twitching up smugly.

As tempting as the food and drink were, Scourge turned his back to it and strayed toward the glass wall overlooking Kaas City.  The last time he’d seen the city it was little more than a smoldering pile of debris.  The elegant buildings had resembled broken teeth, the streets held more craters than pavers and the Citadel was no more than a few girders drowning in a muddy hole. 

Scourge marveled at the change wrought over the last five and half years.  The Citadel was a gleaming monster of obsidian glass and durasteel, its uppermost spire piercing the cloud cover.

The architecture was more Zakuulan in style than he cared for, but it was impressive none-the-less. Lightning reflected on the glass face, turning the edifice a violent shade of purple.  The ‘broken teeth’ from years past were capped with onyx and gleaming paved roads wet with rain linked the districts.  The jungle loomed on the outskirts just as he remembered.  He had underestimated Nox.  She had rebuilt the city to exceed its former glory and managed to retain enough spoils to feather her own nest.

“If you’re quite finished terrifying my manservant, I thought perhaps we might talk.” Nox began good-naturedly as she descended the stairs. 

Scourge didn’t turn around. He sensed another behind her—Vowrawn.  They stood in silent unity at the base of the stairs and when he focussed on their reflections he saw them exchange calculating glances.

“Scourge, old boy? I must say you’re looking quite well for a dead man.”

“Returning from the dead—this is nothing short of a miracle. I think I speak for both Vowrawn and myself when I say we’re gratified that you survived the attack on Dromund Fels.” 

Nox draped herself across the twisted sculpture that served as her throne.  A serving droid clattered into the reception room and set about serving wine for each of them.

“We’d lost hope when the Reclamation Service survey found nothing. How were you able to leave Fels?” Vowrawn asked.

Scourge kept his back to them and stared out at the city.

“Are you all right, old friend? You were never loquacious, but you must admit this is an extreme, even for you.”

Scourge threw back his hood. A diagonal scar cut across his left eye and another bridged his chin. His eyes had turned a deeper shade of red and his frame bulged with even more muscles than either Nox or Vowrawn remembered. His robes were caked with sand, the material cracked like parched soil.  He cut a terrifying figure and the hardness etched on his face was more terrifying still.  Ta’lin wasn’t wrong—he _did_ look as though he’d emerged from a Sarlacc pit—not as a half-digested carcass, but a victor, one capable of tearing the toothy maw apart with his bare hands.

Nox’s eyes widened. If she was taken back by the ferocity of his appearance, she hid it quickly behind a shiv-like smile.  Her fingernails clicked against the bulb of her glass.

Scourge eyed the proffered glass the droid held out to him until the automaton backed away slowly, looking for all the world like he was tempted to down the libation himself.  Vowrawn rescued the spare wine glass from the droid and kept it for himself.

“Clearly subjugation agrees with you,” Scourge began, his tone icy. “Perhaps it was a mistake to come here after all. I did not come here to fraternize with Zakuulan collaborators.” 

 “Hardly,” Nox spat and stood to pace the room, wine in hand, her gown swishing as she moved. “You would call me a collaborator when I’ve triumphed in the face of adversity? What would you have me do? Govern as Acina did? She had no love for the Empire.  She was decadent and useless, as I’m sure you’ll remember.”

Scourge’s eyes were set in a hardened glare that never wavered.  “I remember a frivolous woman obsessed with finery and hedonism—not unlike _you_.”

Nox laughed coolly. “I’ve been underestimated my entire life—I’ve grown rather accustomed to it. I don’t mind.”  Her smile was as sharp and the pale grey eyes that marked her muddied pureblood heritage were just as keen.

Vowrawn threw back his wine in a single gulp and took a softer tone than Nox. “War has hardened us all, my friend.  We merely hide it better than most, but make no mistake, each day that passes, is a day closer to the Eternal Empire’s demise. You came here for a reason. Speak it. I remind you—you are among _friends_.”

Nox circled Scourge and swirled her drink. “By the look of you…you’ve nothing but the robes on your back and the saber at your hip,” she began. “I’m not unsympathetic—the war has cost all of us. I was almost killed during the first Star Fortress attack.  I survived—our child, not yet born, was not so fortunate. I will not risk my heart again until this is finished.”

Scourge dropped his gaze and fixed on the intricate mosaic at his feet.

Vowrawn drifted closer to Nox and claimed her hand.  “As I said, you’re not alone.  What can we do?”

“I would not have come if I had no need of allies. I _will_ see Zakuul fall, but I require a ship and armor.”

“Your zeal is admirable, my friend, but we are under restriction.  I’m amazed you weren’t shot out of the sky.  You never did mention how you managed to get here.”

“How I came to be here is irrelevant.  It’s past.  My only focus is the future and the end of Zakuul.”

“Mmm, I see. Zakuulan restrictions won’t stop us, but it does complicate matters and there is a small matter I need to attend—I could use your assistance if you’re willing.”

Scourge folded his arms. “I’m listening.”

“An old friend of mine—your successor actually—is being held by the Emperor’s Hand. Perhaps you’ve met Darth Fernal?”

“I _thought_ she was dead,” Scourge muttered.

Vowrawn kissed Nox’s hand and released it. “A hazard during wartime to be sure. And yet on occasion, those lost, _return_ , just as you have today.”

“How can you be certain she’s still alive?”

“You know these people as well as I do, I’m sure. She is one of our most potent warriors—they would not waste such a commodity.”

“You know more than you’re telling me,” Scourge hissed.

“My sources indicate she was plucked from battle by—the Opticrons before her ship was destroyed. The Opticrons are droids created from modern and ancient technologies. They have stealth abilities second to none. If the legends are true, our Emperor forged them on a world called Iokath.”

“How did you learn of them?”

“Several years ago, just prior to my brief sojourn on Rishi, I learned of their existence.  They were created to observe Darth Fernal.”

“You mean _spy_ on her.”

“Precisely, my friend. I suspect after your betrayal, our Emperor decided to brook no chances with your successor. Of course, I took it upon myself to warn her that she was being watched. She and her young captain seemed none-too-pleased,” Vowrawn smirked.

“I imagine the footage must’ve been quite entertaining,” Nox oozed and raised her glass in a mock toast. “I had business on Rishi as well—it would seem our dear Emperor was in possession of some rather marvelous toys.”

Scourge twisted the ring adorning his left chin tendril. “You hope to gain access to their stronghold—presumably where Darth Fernal and these devices you mentioned are located.”

“That is the gist of it, yes. And it is my belief, they’re located on Nathema—a world, I understand that only a handful of people are aware of—most of them dead, regrettably— _most_ , except for you. I trust you remember the way?”

Scourge paced and turned back to the window.  Rivulets of rain snaked down the panes.  “This technology, I trust could be turned against Zakuul?”

“My friend, just the stealth capabilities alone would be worth the risk, but there is a great deal more, I’m certain of it.  The cache of intelligence and technology would be of immeasurable value.”

“Can we count on you?” Nox prodded. 

“It seems we have an agreement,” Scourge said.

“Then it’s settled. It will take us some time—to arrange a deep space vessel—and of course to be smuggled off-world to rendezvous with it.  I suggest you relax and take advantage of our hospitality while the arrangements are made.”

“The ship shouldn’t be an issue—I know just the man for the job,” Nox purred.

Vowrawn lifted a brow. “Your pet pirate?”

“My _pet_ pirate,” she nodded and laughed.  “Just don’t let _him_ hear you call him that—I assume you’re still fond of your teeth. But a smuggler…any thoughts?” 

“I may be able to assist on that score,” Scourge said. “If the Voidhound lives, perhaps she and her associates will help. I had occasion to meet her several years ago when she was still known as Captain Gwanshoo. I trust her past crimes will be overlooked by the Empire?”

“During wartime, forgiving potential allies their past indiscretions is a must, my friend. After all the enemy of my enemy, is my friend.”

“Exactly. The Voidwolf—who?” Nox crooned. “Why…I’ve forgotten already.”

 

((to be continued…))

 A/N I decided to give Vowrawn a first name, something more intimate, I went with Veles.  

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Nine**

 

Spoiling a pristine world in order to wage war seemed wrong somehow—wrong, but necessary.

Over the last six weeks, the base on Odessen had evolved from a cluster of tents to an efficient, mostly subterranean headquarters peopled by volunteers and former Imperial and Republic forces, many of whom Liatrix remembered from her time on Yavin.

The lush evergreen forests, craggy cliffs, and turbulent rivers reminded her of Tython, but the similarities ended with the landscape. Tython was a world dedicated to the light, but Odessen interpreted the Force differently—like a double helix—equal and entwined with neither side overruling the other.  The world offered balance and with the balance came a serenity Liatrix had never felt before.  Except today.  Today was different and she didn’t know why.

The final set of ion cannon cupolas were being airlifted into place, shuttles smuggling supplies and equipment came and went. Every day the Alliance base expanded and the possibility of destroying the Eternal Empire became more real. 

The Alliance kept Liatrix from dwelling on her vow against destiny, but today, it felt as if destiny had had enough of her stubbornness and was about to lower the boom and remind her who’s in charge.

She leaned against the railing of the loading dock and took in the majesty of the spruce filled valley below.  A thin sheen of sweat coated her palms, making them slippery against the metal.  Every nerve ending and synapse tingled and fired. Worst of all, her stomach felt like it was full of butterflies drowning in cortisol.

A mild charge hung in the air like after a thunderstorm. It was fresh and filled with an undercurrent of anticipation. The sun felt good on her skin and she breathed in the sweet pungent air and closed her eyes.

A shuttle set down on the landing pad behind her.  The hydraulics lowering the ramp released a steamy swishing sound and were followed by the confident footfalls of the latest arrival.

Liatrix’s eyes snapped open. Her breath caught.  She turned around slowly, finally understanding the reason for her jitters.

Theron Shan sauntered toward her. In five years he’d barely changed, save for a few silvery wisps peppering his sideburns.  Same broad shoulders; same serious gaze; and the same sculpted landscape under his fitted trousers.  Her cheeks burned and she smoothed her hands over the black leatheris jerkin she wore.                 

She’d often thought about the moment she might see him again and now that it had arrived, everything she’d imagined evaporated, leaving her speechless and shaky.

 

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” he drawled.

He spoke calmly enough that his greeting might’ve been rehearsed—or maybe she no longer mattered enough to scramble his nerves.  She feared the latter.

“Theron…” Even as she said his name, her heart fluttered like a herd of Quivry gazelles and she had to remind herself to smile.

“It’s been a long five years.”

“Yeah.” She looked up at him, searching his eyes. “I was starting to think you were avoiding me. I thought we’d cross paths sooner than this.”

“Had a few loose ends to take care of first. Something wrong? You seem nervous.”

“—A little. We didn’t exactly part on the best terms.”

“Your _husband_ did try to kill me.”

She averted her gaze against the bitterness she sensed in his tone.

“In all fairness, you did crash our wedding.”

“Not on purpose. You know that.”

“When I didn’t hear from you, I thought he’d succeeded.”

“You did?”

“Of course I did. And he let me believe you were dead—for months.”

“For what it’s worth, I thought I’d lost you that night on Dromund Kaas. I _did_ lose you that night…” He corrected.

“You made it abundantly clear to me on Coruscant that we couldn’t be together.”

“You _killed_ the Supreme Chancellor.” His gaze remained fixed on her as resolutely as his hands weighed on his hips. “Not that I had any love for Saresh, but you made a choice.  You didn’t think it through.  You didn’t think about what it would do to us.  Did you really expect I could just throw everything away and run off with you to the Empire after that? That’s a thing with you—you don’t think before you act.  And some of what you’ve done—can’t be undone.”

She dropped her gaze, knowing that he was referring to Satele. “You did come back though.”

“You know why.”

“I can’t change what I did—but I’d do it again to protect my father.”

“And that didn’t work out so well for any of us, now did it.” Theron raked his hand through his hair. “This is getting us nowhere.” 

“I wrote to you. You never answered.”

“I couldn’t.  It’s a long story and by the time I found out you _hadn’t_ died—you had. Or so we thought.”

“You know about the children?”

He nodded. “I feel—responsible.”

“Don’t.”

“I wish I could’ve held him, even once.”

“He looked like you,” she said wistfully. “I blame myself.  I thought we were invincible—that we’d take care of Vitiate and everything would go back to normal. I was wrong. I lost _everything_.”

“So did I.”

“I never wanted any of that to be the last we ever said to each other.”

“But it was—for a long time.”

“I know.”

“Look—there’s a lot we need to go over—the others are waiting inside—but I have something to show you first—”

As if on cue, her old corvette swooped down to land in the canyon. 

“Tora says it needs work—but I thought you might want it back.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way—I appreciate the gesture—but it’s full of ghosts and I have enough on my mind.”

“Lana told me about what you’re going through—with the Emperor—sharing real estate with you.”

“Then you’ll understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Why I have to keep my distance _._ ” The words came out colder than she intended and she wondered if she actually said them, or if Valkorion had somehow influenced them.

“That was never going to be a problem, _Commander_.”

“You said there’s a meeting? I’ll be along shortly. _Dismissed_.”

She regretted the authority in her tone the moment she spoke the command. He didn’t linger and made his way inside the base without looking back. He was always so damn stoic.

 _I wish it didn’t have to be this way._ The ice in his voice hurt. Even the worst imagining of their reunion wasn’t as cold as the reality. She stared down at the sprawling tree-lined valley below to collect herself.  Tears threatened, but she pushed away the reason for them.  She held her breath until the heat in her eyes cleared.

Valkorion appeared beside her.  “You can’t afford any distractions. Destroying my children is _all_ that matters.  Your destiny eclipses anything he could ever offer.”

She glared at Valkorian and her hands tightened into fists. Without saying a word, she stalked into the base.

*

Lana, Koth, Senya, Quinn, and Theron stood in silence around the vast table dominating the war room.

“Commander, it’s good to see you. Now that you’re here, we can begin,” Lana said.

“Let’s get down to it, shall we? Liatrix folded her arms and positioned herself between Quinn and Lana and as far from Theron as she could manage. “What do you have for us?”

Theron leaned against the support pilaster.  “The Eternal Empire has positioned battle stations, we call Star Fortresses over every major world in all sectors.  For the time being, they’re monitoring activity on each world, but our sensor readings indicate they are equipped to do a lot more than that, but we need to learn more about them before we can devise a strike.”

“We need to get the _Gravestone_ fully operational and in peak condition first.  Has there been anything further from Tee-Seven? Surely you must have heard something more by now?” Liatrix asked.

“As a matter of fact, Commander, Tee-Seven contacted us no less than two hours ago. We now know the exact location of this Lady of Sorrows,” Lana said.

Koth straightened and paced before the line of monitors tracking the space above Odessen. “If she’s got the schematics for the _Gravestone,_ it would be a huge help to get ‘er battle ready.”

“The Lady of Sorrows is located in the heart of the old world—Breaktown,” Senya said.

“In an area, the locals call ‘The Razor,” Lana added.

“Anything we need to know about it? Things to watch for?” Liatrix asked.

“Thieves and thugs, scum of every sort.  It’s a haven for criminals—it’s the underbelly of Zakuul’s underbelly—and I know it all too well.”

Liatrix nodded. “Then you’re with me—and Lana. We need to get Tee-Seven back and see what we can get out of this Lady of Sorrows.  We get in, get out fast.  I don’t want to linger.  Theron, learn all you can about these Star Fortresses and assemble a flight crew.  We’ll get started on them after we’ve dealt with this.”

“Understood,” Theron barked and turned back to his monitors.

“I know the old world pretty well m’self,” Koth announced.  “I could take you in.”

“All right, then that’s the plan. Major Quinn—you should come too.  In case anyone gets hurt.”

“Yes, my lord, I’ll pick up my med kit and await you on the shuttle.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing what this Lady of Sorrows has to say—and what it’ll cost us. I don’t imagine this kind of information will come cheap,” Liatrix said.

“There are no deals to be made with this kind of people,” Senya said.

Koth scowled. “Hey, it’s easy for you to look down your nose at them, but these people need our help, not our scorn.”

Senya met his stare. “They’re criminals.  They’re beyond help.”

“Once Arcann is gone, I’m sure they’ll be happier for it.  Let’s move,” Liatrix barked and left the war room without looking back. 

*

Lost in their own thoughts, the reconnaissance team barely spoke on the way to Zakuul. The planet loomed ahead in the viewport, clusters of light in the darkness indicating where populations were concentrated—the capital, a veritable beacon summoning them to the surface.

“I’m taking us in now,” Koth announced as he took the shuttle down in a swooping trajectory toward the city’s fringes.

A thick grey brume coiled over the lower levels of the capital, making it look like the city was sprouting out of a cloud.  Koth grinned. “We couldn’t have picked a better night for this—less likely to be spotted in this fog.”

The shuttle slowed and the landing ramp extended into a tunnel. Liatrix leaned over the com, “Is that a sewer?”

“Hey, you said you wanted to fraternize with the Breaktown folks.  This is the best way in.  I doubt any knights will be patrolling the filtration plant,” Koth said, shooting a barbed glance at Senya.

Senya scoffed. “For once you’re not wrong—we ran patrols, but never stayed long. For criminals, they police themselves well enough—the Heralds of Zildrog see to that mostly.”

Liatrix studied the map projected over the com station. “These Heralds, are they going to be a problem?”

“Nothing we can’t handle, but we should remain on our guard, Commander.”

“I think that goes without saying.”

Lana straightened.  “It would seem this is our stop.”

“We’ll hang close unless anything happens,” Koth said.

“Good luck, my lords,” Quinn said.

 “Thank you, Major. Lana, Senya, shall we?”  Liatrix’s right hand opened and closed as she disembarked.  Her nose wrinkled.  “Helluva welcome. This place could stand some Alderaanian nectar.  Shame ID-V8 isn’t here.”

“Who?”  Senya asked.

“My old ship’s droid. He liked to drown everything in perfume and keep the cushions fluffed.”

“You’ll get used to the smell soon enough,” Senya reassured.

Vines dangled from the grates above and a constant ‘drip drip’ noise made it feel more like a cave than sewer pipe. Inside the treatment plant, the way forward consisted of suspended metal catwalks.  The facility was deserted save for a few fuzzy vermin that scattered when the trio neared.

Senya beamed, seemingly enchanted by the dismal setting. At times she would even hum and sing.  “This is a piece of Zakuul’s history—the first attempt Valkorion made to realize his vision of a grand society.”

“I’d say it was a failed attempt,” Liatrix said dismissively, “But I’d like to know more about you and Valkorian, your relationship.”

“It wasn’t some epic whirlwind romance.  We met when I joined his elite guard.  You could say, I was opinionated—and he seemed to appreciate that,” she said with a smile. “He was bold, innovative, confident.”

“I can understand why you’d find those qualities attractive. You had a lot in common.”

“You’re flattering me,” she chuckled.  “But yes, we had much in common and we were…happy for a time.”

“What changed that?” Lana asked.

“The children—Thexan and Arcann needed their father, but no matter what I did, they didn’t want me and he didn’t want them. He barely spoke—it was like he became another person—distant, detached. And then there was Vaylin—she was troubled from the start and a danger to everyone around her.”

Liatrix stopped. “What did you do?”  

“What could I do? I confronted Valkorion, told him his children needed help.  His solution was to ignore the boys and to lock Vaylin’s powers away, along with who she was. She wasn’t always a monster—but that’s what she became.  I couldn’t watch, I tried to take them and leave, but they wouldn’t come with me. They called me weak, so I left.”

“You _left_ them?” Liatrix snapped, her face twisting with contempt. “You were the only one who cared about them and you left? What kind of a mother does that?”

“I heard you left yours.”

“Not because I _wanted_ to. I did it to protect them. There was a war, that _your_ family started. It’s because of them, that my family is dead and I can’t wait to repay the favour.”

“Please—this is getting out of hand. We need to continue,” Lana said quietly.

“Then let’s go,” Liatrix growled and moved ahead. “How much further?”

“Not far, according to these coordinates, Tee-Seven provided.  I imagine he’ll rendezvous with us shortly.”

Senya peered over Lana’s shoulder.  “We can reach The Razor faster if we keep to the eastern passageways. Less likely to be spotted too.”

“Let’s hope you’re right.  The sooner we get out of here, the better.” 

 

The corridors were mostly deserted, with the exception of a vagrant rummaging through the dumpsters and a drunk sprawled out and snoring at the end of the hall. 

“It’s almost too quiet,” Senya muttered. “I don’t like it.”

“For once—we don’t have to do something the hard way,” Liatrix said. “I like the quiet. Even if it is unnerving.”

“According to my sensors, there’s a door ahead—three meters.”  Lana shut the device and clipped it back onto her belt.

Before they could reach the entry panel, the door groaned and rolled to one side.  Tee-Seven chirped and rolled forward to meet them.

“Oh, it’s you.” Liatrix exhaled her relief. “I’m glad to see you’re safe. The Lady of Sorrows is on this level?”

The astromech whirred and beeped. “Mission=accomplished. T-7 moving on to secondary objectives. You + T-7 = meet on Gravestone later. You + Lana + Senya = Good luck.”

“You too.”

The droid gave a final whistle and rolled away.

“According to him, the elevator to her penthouse is just up ahead.”  Liatrix started for the elevator.  Lana caught her arm.

“It feels like a trap, why are there no guards down here?”

“Because it would attract attention—people might wonder what they’re guarding.”

Senya nodded.  “I agree with the Commander—it would draw attention and we’ve never come this close to the Lady of Sorrows before.”

“Looks like the elevator is locked down—care to do the honours, Lana?”

“I should be able to manage it without triggering any alarms.”  Lana set about slicing into the elevator’s control pad.  A moment later, the doors swished open.  “I’m getting rather good at that.”

“We’ll pat ourselves on the back once we’re back home. Drinks are on me,” Liatrix said, stepping onto the glassed-in platform.

Lana followed, but the moment she stepped inside, the doors swished shut, leaving Senya on the outside.  The older woman’s ice blue eyes grew wild and she slammed her fists against the outside of the elevator enclosure hard enough to crack the glass.

“I thought you said you’d gotten good at slicing?” Liatrix muttered. 

“I take it back.” The elevator picked up speed and Lana looked up.  “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Close your eyes and put your hands on your knees. It’ll pass. But get ready to jump, I don’t think it’s gonna stop.” 

“Understood, Commander.” Lana stooped and after a moment the motion sickness passed. “It actually worked.”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Liatrix grumbled.

The durasteel shaft and the lights illuminating each level became a blur.  The elevator chugged like a speeding freight train and the lights inside flashed red. A warning blared through the compartment.  “Warning! The device has exceeded safe velocity. Collision imminent.”

“How long before it crashes?” Liatrix barked at the system.

“Collision detected in three…two…one—”

“Lana! Jump!”  Liatrix leapt toward the dizzying light ahead and tumbled into the vestibule of the penthouse apartment.  Not a second later, Lana collided with her and both leapt to their feet. They stood back to back, lightsabers in hand at the same instant.

They strode forward cautiously. The entrance hall widened into a spacious living area, with luxurious but minimal furnishings.  A trio of black-robbed figures lay prone on the floor, electricity still lancing through their corpses.  The stench of charred flesh wafted through the penthouse.

An ominous looking pistol-grey droid, with black and gold accent coverings, stood before them, orange eyes blazing. The droids features were elegantly pointed into almost aquatic looking fins and the body seemed an exaggeration of an antique protocol droid.

“A droid?”  Liatrix hissed incredulously.

“That’s no ordinary droid, Commander,” Lana’s eyes narrowed and her weapon growled to life. “That’s _Scorpio_.”

 

((to be continued…))


	10. Chapter 10

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Ten**

 

The artificial lifeform sauntered toward the Sith, metallic arms outstretched as if offering an embrace. “I’m no mere droid, Battlemaster.  I am an intelligence beyond comprehension.”

“You’re a filthy child-murdering machine,” Liatrix snarled. “A machine I intend to take apart, bolt by bolt.”

“I am of far more use to you intact. Only I can communicate with the _Gravestone_. Perhaps if I eliminate the negative influence from this equation, you’ll listen to my proposal.”

A jag of livid blue lightning erupted from the droid’s outstretched hand, throwing Lana into the wall behind them. Her head lolled forward and her arm twitched from the voltage coursing through it.

“Not a chance.” Liatrix gritted her teeth and lifted the droid off her feet through the Force.  The sound of denting and creaking metal sent an ear curdling squeal through the penthouse. Scorpio’s chest and appendages shriveled and collapsed like drying fruit. The internal circuitry popped and fizzled.

Scorpio sputtered. “You’re a particularly irrational biological. Never let it be said that I didn’t try to be reasonable. Remember, you brought this on yourself.”

A flashing red beacon lit the room and a wailing alarm sounded within the apartment. Every holocom inside the penthouse and out came alive with Liatrix’s image.  “The Outlander is at these coordinates!” Scorpio’s metallic voice announced. 

Outside, the nightscape brightened suddenly with multiple, monumental rotating images of the Outlander atop every building and a trio of holonet drones swooped in toward the penthouse windows.

“You won’t leave this world alive, Battlemaster.”

“Do you think I care? You killed my children and I’ll kill _you_. That’s _all_ that matters.”

Scorpio wriggled before her and with one fell swoop of Liatrix’s saber, Scorpio’s metallic legs clattered to the floor, dropping her torso on the remaining stumps. Liatrix leveled her saber at the droid’s neck, the blade fuming with dark energy.

“You’re not exactly what I expected, but close. What if I told you I didn’t murder them, Battlemaster?”

“Shut up. You think you can lie your way out of this?” Liatrix cranked her left hand hard and with the gesture, Scorpio’s head twisted free of her shoulders and bounced to land with a thud between Liatrix’s feet.

Scorpio’s ember coloured eyes blinked as the visual sensors shorted out, but her vocal processor still taunted, “A pity your short-sightedness will prevent you from ever seeing your offspring again.”

“Lying scrap.” Liatrix summoned Scorpio’s head to hand and after identifying the wire powering the vocalizer, she tore it out to mute the machine.

She stared into the darkened powerless eyes and threw her head back and roared until she was raw and breathless.

Scorpio’s head rolled off her fingertips.  She re-ignited her saber and stabbed the machine’s torso over and over until the various coolants and fluids coursing through its systems leaked out into a puddle and ignited. The heat and smoke triggered the sprinkler system, adding to the tears burning down Liatrix’s cheeks.

Despite the alarms, she remained rooted and silent. She removed a packet from one of the reticules on her belt. 

With a flick of her wrist, the packet unfurled into a lightweight dura-weave backpack.  She detached Scorpio’s interface hand and stuffed it and the head into the backpack. She slung the pack over her shoulder and raced back to Lana’s side. Two fingers against the blonde’s throat indicated she was still alive.

Liatrix shook her associate’s shoulder. “Lana, c’mon. We’ve gotta go.”

“Scorpi…oh…” Lana mumbled and winced but didn’t open her eyes. 

“Lana! Wake up! Let’s go!” Liatrix worked herself under Lana’s shoulder and positioned herself against the blonde’s hip to heft her up to a stand, but before she could raise her, a new presence asserted itself inside the penthouse.

Liatrix stiffened. She eased Lana back down into a slump and dropped the backpack into her lap. 

“You’re not going anywhere, Outlander.”  The voice was rough and deep—compelling and elegant despite its coarse timbre.

“Arcann…”

“I don’t leave my throne room for just anyone. Be honoured.” He strode toward her, paying no mind to the sprinklers raining over them.

“Don’t expect me to bow. What do you want?”

“Whatever that fool Heskal told you about my fate or yours—he’s mistaken. I forge my own destiny by making the hard choices.  I know that to be true of you as well.”

“Hmph. You want to make another deal,” she scoffed, her eyes hardening.

“I’m not without mercy, Liatrix. Surrender to me.  Together we’ll figure out a way to rid you of my father’s influence.”

“Do you really think I’d actually trust you again? You’d return me to carbonite and hang me over your mantle.”

“Don’t be so sure how things will end. Come with me. Your friends will be left in peace—once I’ve reclaimed the _Gravestone_. It belongs to the Eternal Empire.”

“And after that?”

“We have unfinished business— _our_ destiny.”

Valkorion appeared at her side and folded his arms as he regarded his son.  “Fear the snake that believes himself a dragon.  My son _will_ betray you.”

“There’s nothing to discuss, Arcann,” Liatrix snarled, her lightsaber growling to life.  She advanced on him and his blade ignited in time to block hers.  He threw her back and she came at him again.  Their blades crossed. The sprinklers and sparks from the malfunctioning lights bloomed around them like fireworks in the rain.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Arcann growled.

“Yes it does,” she spat.

Blade crushed against blade they traversed the length of the penthouse and back again. The furniture tipped and tumbled, shattering to form new weapons.

Arcann pulled down a sputtering fixture and sent it at Liatrix.  She ducked to avoid the massive metal bulk as it crashed through the window behind her.  The chill night air ripped into the apartment and the wind whistled through the shattered glass teeth. 

They stalked one another, circling, colliding, tunics fluttering in the rushing air. Arcann leapt high to come at her with a flying kick.  She sidestepped his effort and watched him slide over the slick wet floor.  Somehow he managed to stay on his feet.  She flung her arm out, hurling him against the pilaster supporting the ceiling.  It bowed and cracked from the force of his body’s impact.  He shook his injuries off like a minor nuisance and straightened.

She claimed the advantage and came at him again, driving him relentlessly until he was forced to recoil at her savagery.  He raised his free hand and drove her back with the Force.  She collided with the room divider separating the bedrooms from the main room.  She slid down the wall. He charged at her like a rabid bull nerf and she flipped onto her feet.

His amber-gold blade snarled. She parried his incoming blow and rolled, coming up to stand behind him.  She slashed her blade across his back, rending his white reinforced leatheris armor to the flesh.  She didn’t expect him to whirl on her and thrust. She narrowly avoided taking his blade in her gut—but a sharp pain lanced up her side and she slashed at him again, this time catching his metal arm.

“You! Don’t touch me,” he growled.

“Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?”

Their savage, elegant dance began anew, blades sizzling against each other and the drizzle from above.  Out of the corner of her eye, Liatrix saw Lana struggling to stand. 

“End him!” Valkorion commanded from where her shadow ought to have been.

“Your father and I are going to kill you,” she taunted.

“If he could, he would’ve by now.”

She dove at Arcann, pushing him harder and harder.  He blocked her blows and once more she beat him down in the corner. He lifted his hand against her, but instead of pushing her away, he pulled her to him and drove his blade into her gut. Pressed together like lovers they glared at each other as his blade seared her insides. Her lips twisted and she gritted her teeth.

Arcann retracted his blade and pushed her away in the same motion, his face almost stricken by what he’d done.  She wasn’t sure if she imagined it, but for a moment it appeared as if his amber eye, flashed to a pale blue and then back again.

Liatrix clutched her gut and forced herself to remain on her feet.

Time slowed and Valkorion circled her. “You _need_ me.”

She nodded almost imperceptibly and the familiar wave of black-purple energy seized her body. 

“You won’t win, father.  I’ll destroy you!” Arcann roared.

Jags of black-purple lightning streamed from her hand and connected with Arcann’s chest.  His body soared backward and out the broken window.  The holo-drones dove after him to record his descent.  

Liatrix watched until he disappeared into the fog. Valkorian’s power left her as quickly as it had seized her.  She dropped to her knees and collapsed.  Whispers hissed in her mind until everything turned to darkness.

 

Koth’s voice crackled over her com.  “All hell’s breaking loose, Commander…we gotta haul jets! C’mon! I’ll be at your coordinates in sixty seconds. Get ready to jump! Eternal Fleet incoming!”

Lana limped to Liatrix’s body and knelt to answer the com.  “Koth—she can’t make the jump.  It’s bad. Come quickly.”  She reached back into her hair, blood darkening her glove. She winced and hovered over Liatrix.  “What have you become?”

The shuttle rose up next to the broken window, ramp extended.  Quinn emerged from the shuttle.

“She’s over here, Major.  Koth, keep it steady,” Lana barked and snatched up the backpack. Her attention drifted back to Scorpio’s decimated limbs and torso, but there was nothing left to salvage.

Quinn stripped off his jacket and bundled his arm to clear away what remained of the broken glass. He climbed inside the window and after shaking out any bits of glass from his jacket, he wrapped Liatrix in it and lifted her to him, carefully maneuvering her over the window’s edge as he climbed back out. The wind whistled around him, fluttering the thin material of his undershirt and throwing his jet black hair into disarray.  

Lana called after him, “Can you manage, Major?”

“Yes, my lord. I have her.” 

A squad of knights and troopers clattered into the penthouse vestibule, weapons at the ready.  “Open fire!” The leader of the knights commanded.

Lana dashed into the ship behind them, a hail of plasma bolts following her in and bouncing off the shuttle’s hull. The hatch came up behind her as the Zakuulan troops reached the window’s ledge.

Quinn settled Liatrix onto a hover-stretcher.  He pulled his vibroblade from his belt and cut open her leatheris jerkin to gain access to her wound. “We don’t have much time,” he called up to the cockpit.

 

Koth pulled the shuttle up and sped off just as the Eternal fleet arrived in their peculiar formation, weapons targeting the penthouse.  “What the hell happened down there?”

Lana shook her head. “A couple of unexpected surprises—the Lady of Sorrows was _not_ what we expected.  And we most certainly didn’t expect Arcann either.”

“Arcann?! Where’s he at now?” 

“I _think_ he’s dead—where’s Senya?” Lana glanced around. “Tell me you didn’t leave her behind! Koth?!”

“Hey, I had to make a choice. It was you or her.”

“You have to go back!”

Quinn shook his head. “My lord, if he does, the Commander might not survive. She requires surgery and a kolto tank.”

“You managed to bring down all of Zakuul on us and you wanna go back?” Koth barked.

Lana swallowed and looked between them.  “We’re going to get Senya and we’re going to leave. Take us to her last known location.”

“She was with Vaylin on the western platform,” Koth grunted.

“Damnit, it’s never good news is it,” Lana swore.  “Just do it.  Do it now. We leave no one behind.”

Tee-Seven beeped his agreement.

“If everything goes to hell, just remember, it was _your_ idea,” Koth threw back over his shoulder.

 

Koth brought the shuttle around in a 270-degree arc toward the western platform and dropped to an altitude low enough that the shuttle dipped and dove between buildings like an ocean bird.

The fog had grown denser and engulfed much of the platform.  Only two slashes of colour were visible from afar, clashing on the rampart—one a pale blue and the other the same amber-gold as Arcann’s. 

“There—they’re over there,” Lana breathed over Koth’s shoulder.  “I can sense them—Senya needs our help.  She won’t last much longer against Vaylin.”

“Target Vaylin and open fire?”

“No…Senya’s too close.  Do a fly-by—like that time on Denon. Hopefully, we can collect Senya before Vaylin recovers.”

“She’s liable to tear our wings off if we do that.”

“It’s risky, I know, but I don’t see how we have any other choice,” Lana winced at the pain at the back of her skull.  “I know you can do it, Koth.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.  Here goes nuthin…’” 

The shuttle dropped into the thick of the fog and zoomed past the orange slash of light.  The dark robed figure remained fixed. The yellow lightsaber soared through the fog and bounced off the shuttle’s hull.

“She’s throwing things at us, Lana.”

“Knock her off!”

“You got it.”  Koth came about and dipped the starboard wing, just enough to mow Vaylin off the wall.  “Direct hit!”

“Tee-Seven extend the boarding ramp half-way.  Hurry!”

The astromech plugged his tool arm into the interface and cranked hard.  The shuttle’s ramp buffeted across the current.  The pale blue sliver of light vanished off the top of the wall and the ship gave slightly at the incoming weight.

“What took you so long?”  Senya muttered between pants as she raced to the cockpit.  “For a second, I thought you’d left.”

“For a second, I had,” Koth retorted.  “But I’m starting to get used to your singing.”

 

Senya settled into an empty seat. “What happened to the Commander?” 

“Arcann happened—I don’t have all the details, I was briefly incapacitated.”

“What’s the prognosis?”

“It’s not good.” Quinn barely glanced up.  “I’ve been developing an experimental tissue knitting technique for just this contingency—but it is not something that can be readily performed in the field—or in our case during a high-speed escape.  I require precise conditions.”

“Koth—do whatever you must to get us back to Odessen,” Lana urged.  She applied kolto to the back of her head and settled next to Senya.

“Let me help you,” Senya offered and shifted closer to Lana.  “There’s more to this, isn’t there. What happened to my son?”

“I think Arcann may be dead.”

Senya fell silent and dropped her gaze to her lap.

“There are holonet probes all over Zakuul—if he _is_ dead—one of them must’ve picked up on it by now,” Koth offered.

“Tee-Seven, see if you can’t manage a link, I realize it’s asking a bit much in all this,” Lana said.

The droid warbled and set to work on establishing a holonet link.

Koth glanced back at Lana. “So what about the _Gravestone_? The Lady of Sorrows was supposed to provide information on how to fix ‘er.”

Lana hugged the backpack. “Scorpio—was the Lady of Sorrows. If there is information to be had, it’ll be on her CPU. It’ll take time to set up an independent system for it, but that’s the best we can do.”

“Guess I can see why the Commander took her apart.”

“I can’t blame her—even if it does set us back,” Lana murmured.

 

The shuttle broke free of the Zakuulan atmosphere and lurched into hyperspace. 

“Can’t believe we got away from the fleet,” Koth said, exhaling a sigh of relief.

“That alone must confirm Arcann’s death.  Neither he nor Vaylin were able to give the pursuit order,” Senya droned.

Tee-Seven beeped and rocked back and forth on his stabilizers. 

“Well done, Tee-Seven. Show us what you’ve found,” Lana said. 

The droid projected several holonet stations, all of them depicting the savage battle between him and the darkened figure belonging to the Outlander, culminating in Arcann’s fall from the penthouse. 

The image swooped and blurred as the holo-drones followed Arcann during his fall. His body bounced off a series of alternating awnings, slowing his fall until he landed in a Zakuulan fountain.  A pair of golden fish spat water on his head.  He sputtered and raged at the air before him, taking at least one of the drones down during his tantrum.

“Arcann’s alive,” Senya mouthed.  “He survived.”

Koth smirked. “And the holonet is really eating it up—it’s taking over nearly every channel—the whole universe’ll see it. It’s like fire in a gas mine.”

Lana leaned in closer to the com unit. “They don’t seem to have captured a clear visual of the Commander.  Just as well I suppose.”

“That would be to her advantage—to keep her identity a secret—at least until such time as we’ve accumulated sufficient forces to challenge the Eternal Empire,” Quinn said.

“Well, this broadcast should help with recruitment. Now they’ll see that Arcann is not untouchable.”

“If she survives…” Quinn whispered.  He glanced over his shoulder at the group collected around the holonet display, every set of eyes glued to the transmission.  He set his hand over Liatrix’s and gave it a squeeze.  “A little longer, my lord.  That’s all I ask,” he whispered.

 

The whorls of blue surrounding the shuttle thinned as they jetted out of hyperspace.  “It’s good to be back,” Koth announced and took the shuttle down to Odessen’s surface.

Theron sauntered out of the base to meet the incoming shuttle.  The thrusters powered down and landing gear popped as they set down on the landing pad. 

The hatch opened and the boarding ramp extended.  Quinn deplaned first, carefully steering the hover-stretcher down the ramp.  A coarse weave blanket covered Liatrix to the hips and a kolto pack had been taped in place over her abdomen to keep pressure.  A field IV hung over the stretcher from a durasteel hook. Dark circles shadowed her lashes and all colour had faded from her cheeks.

Theron’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.  Quinn strode past him, quickening his pace toward the infirmary.  Theron pursued Quinn, half jogging to catch up. “What happened? Is she gonna be all right?”

“There’s no time. Excuse me, agent,” Quinn snapped and continued inside. 

Lana caught Theron’s arm.  “She needs emergency surgery. Let them be.”

Theron raked his hand through his hair and stopped midway as realization and worry settled in. His eyes took on distance as if he were suddenly somewhere else—in another time and place.  He swallowed. “What happened? Who did this to her?”

“Arcann was there—she defeated him, but not before he impaled her with his lightsaber.”

“She’s gonna live. Right? Tell me she’s gonna live, Lana.”

“I’m sorry, Theron, I can’t make any guarantees, but I believe the Major will do all he can.”

“I need to be with her.”

“No, Theron.  You need to let the Major work in peace.  And there is much to do,” she thrust the backpack at Theron. 

He frowned and peered inside at the droid head and metallic hand.  “What’s this?”

“Scorpio’s remains.”

“What the—Scorpio?”

“She was the Lady of Sorrows. I’ll explain later. For now, we need to set up an independent system and unravel her CPU for every crumb of information we can get. The sooner we have the _Gravestone_ at maximum capabilities the better. We can’t risk contaminating our systems, this needs to be completely independent.”

“I can’t even imagine what she must’ve gone through seeing that damn droid…”

“If it’s any consolation…the commander is nothing if not thorough—that’s _all_ that’s left,” Lana said, nodding at the pack.

Theron nodded and trudged into the command center.

 

*

 

Theron tossed his data pad aside and rubbed his eyes. “We’ve been at this for hours. Gonna call it a night.”

Lana nodded. “I think that would be wise.  I’ll do the same.  We’ll start fresh in the morning.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose to soothe the throbbing in his head. “Has there been any word?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.  Major Quinn informed me that the procedure was a success. She’s stable and should recover fully in a few days.”

Theron blew out a deep breath and shuffled out of the headquarters.  The night air felt good on his face.  He kneaded the back of his neck until something popped.  The sky was black-purple and clear enough to show every constellation in detail.

A meteorite shot across the sky, burning out just before meeting the horizon.  His lip crept up and he strayed toward the infirmary.  He’d stay only a minute, he promised himself.

The room was dim.  She slept, with her arms at her sides with her head tipped toward her left shoulder. He sank into the chair by her bed and hunkered over the metal side bar to watch her.

She snored softly and he smirked.  Some things never changed. Keeping his head up turned into a burden and he rested his chin on his arms and yawned. He traced the outer edge of her left hand with the tip of his index finger and fell asleep before he could take it back.

 

*

A lithe pale figure slipped into the Lady of Sorrow’s penthouse on Zakuul.  She drew her blaster and shifted along, wall to wall like a shadow.  Something shiny and metallic on the floor caught her eye and she strode toward it.

Moon pale eyes sparkled and dark lips quirked upward as she gave the torso a kick with her steel-tipped boot.  “Should’ve called dibs on the head. Hah. Not so smart _now_ , are ya? You mighta had the brains, but I’ve got the brass,” she taunted as she pulled out a can of spray paint to leave her mark.

 

((to be continued…))


	11. Chapter 11

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Eleven**

 

Darmas Pollaran swirled the dregs of his Sonic Screwdriver as he reached under the table for the blaster hidden there.

The bouncer had locked up no less than ten minutes ago and boarded a cab with a pack of the cantina’s exhausted dancers. The neon lights lining the main thoroughfare of the Corellian Sector on Nar Shaddaa shed their colourful glow on the now deserted sector.

The purple neon skirting the VIP section of the _Stars End Cantina_ was the only source of light inside the bar. One section flickered in a too-even rhythm before winking out. The last strains of ‘ _That Slippery Little Hutt of Mine_ ’ wound down on the jukebox, until all Darmas could hear was the crackle of the ice cubes fading in his glass.

He glanced up with hardened green eyes, following the dim neon to the mirrors surrounding the bar. A vibration tinkled the bottles lining the shelves. His index finger curled around the blaster’s trigger and the corner of his mouth edged up.

“If you’re here to rob me of my winnings, do it like a man and play me for it. I’ll cut,” he called out, needling the intruder.

Jonas Balkar emerged from his hiding place and flicked on the overhead lights in Darmas’s section.  “I’m not here to play games, Pollaran.”

“Then grab a bottle of that low rent swill you like and join me.”

Darmas retracted his hand from under the table and topped up his drink. His gaze followed Jonas as he rounded the bar. His left hand was curled around the neck of the kri’gee bottle while two fingers pinched a tumbler between them. His pistol hand remained free.

“Long time—figured you’d show up eventually,” Darmas drawled and took a swig of his drink.

Jonas slid into the booth across from his contact. “Last _I_ heard you were heading for a lengthy stay on Belsavis.”

“You didn’t think they’d actually hold me, did you?” Darmas muttered over the rim of his glass. “Some things are worth more than credits to the right people. Even managed to earn myself a new start here.”

Jonas poured two fingers of kri’gee. “You’ve got friends in high places.”

“I’ve got _dirt_ on people in high places you mean. Still naïve as ever, m’boy.”

“I prefer—honourable, if it’s all the same,” Jonas grumbled.

“There’s no honour in what we do—we’re all little more than womprats in a woodpile.”

“That’s about what I’d expect from a sack of filth like you.”

“Now is that any way to talk to your father?” Darmas smirked and crunched the remnants of the ice cube in his mouth.

“You’re right. _This_ is how I should talk to you.” Jonas drew his pistol and leveled it between Darmas’s eyes. “My mother’s dead because of you. I should’ve done this a long time ago.”

“You didn’t then and you won’t now. The muja fruit didn’t fall far from the tree did it?” Darmas curled his hand over the pistol’s muzzle and forced it down.

Jonas recoiled. “She trusted you, loved you—how you could do that to her?  And to me? I was just a kid.”

“A kid too nosy for his own good. Once your mother confided to me where the terrorists were, it was all over.”

“You didn’t have to kill her—or the dissidents.” 

“That was the job. She was a means to an end, nothing more. The job always does your feeling for you. Piece of fatherly advice? Don’t get attached. The day always comes when you have to let go, one way or another. You’d have done the same thing.”

“Like hell I would.”

“One day you’ll see what I mean—or maybe you have already?” Darmas nodded toward the band of white flesh at the base of Jonas’s ring finger. “I see married life isn’t agreeing with you?”

“That’s none of your damn business.”

“Sure it is. Gutsy move on your part, marrying a Sith—even though she barely qualifies. Have to wonder what was in Marr’s head to put her in charge of Imperial Intelligence. She’s been played more times than this deck.”  Darmas tapped the stack of cards to his right.

“Shut your mouth.  You don’t know her.”

“Neither do you. You figure Marr had a seasoned Cipher in his stable, one that had gone toe to toe with the best of the Sith and he picks Beniko because she can do a little Force mumbo jumbo?” He wriggled his fingers like a magician casting a spell. “The woman couldn’t spot a mole if it was on her face.”

Jonas dove over the table and snatched him up by the collar.  “That’s my wife you’re talking about.”

“ _Ex_ -wife.”

“We’re on a break, that’s all.”  Jonas released Darmas and shoved him back against the padded backrest in one gesture.

“She’s not your type—a rebound? I think so.”

“Stop acting like you know me.”

“We’re more alike than you’d care to admit.”

“The hell we are.”

“Come come now, m’boy. I see the signs—you’ve been killing yourself for years now.  Nights spent hunched over a bottle, a deathstick habit you _hope_ no one notices—even those expensive Huttese cigars you can’t afford—nice diversions until you realize they don’t work. You figured marriage would fill the void, but no dice. I almost feel sorry for her.”

“Are you done?” Jonas snapped.

“Put it this way—if your wife had any talent for intelligence work, she’d have run the other way the moment she laid eyes on you.”

Jonas scowled. “You think you’re so damn good at this.”

“I _am_ good. Humour your old man—let’s see what she looks like.”

“You’ve talked to Lana on the holo. She told me.”

“Not _her_.”

 Jonas downed his drink in one gulp.  “You must think I’m an idiot.”

“Look at me. You think this is what I had in mind when I was your age? Living in a cantina, parting fools from their credits? Biding my time ‘til the real currency comes in? Don’t end up like me.”

“Ah, the cautionary tale,” Jonas nodded. “You must want something pretty bad to start playing Dad at your age.”

Darmas twisted his glass between his hands. Jonas recognized the inherited gesture and frowned into his tumbler.

“I’m curious—why didn’t you tell your wife about me?”

“You’re nothing to me, why would I?”

“Fair enough,” Darmas sighed. “Look, I’ve made mistakes—but saving you wasn’t one of them. If that’s all you take away from our chat, I’ll be satisfied.”

“You would’ve blown that freighter regardless of whether I was on board or not—the job—that’s all that’s ever mattered to you. That’s what this is, isn’t it? You want back in the Empire. You think you can use Lana to stage a comeback.”

“I’ve spent thirty-seven years in the Republic—practically as long as you’ve been alive. I don’t even sound Imperial anymore, there’s no going back for me, but I’d like to fix things, I’m not getting any younger. Ask yourself, how I know your demons so well—it’s because I’ve been on a first name basis with the same ones for years.”

“You’ll forgive me if I’m skeptical.”

“Just think about it—see if you can find it in yourself to give your old man another chance.”

Jonas refilled his glass and threw it back. “I have my reasons for being here and you were never one of them.”

“Ah yes, on to the reason for your visit then. You’re here to find the infamous Dr. Kimble and his lovely wife. Or shall I say, Master Kira.”

Jonas choked on his drink. “ _They_ got married?”

“Oh, it’s not common knowledge of course, but what sort of information broker would I be, if I didn’t know what was happening right under my nose? They’ve got a kid too, about yay high,” Darmas held his hand about a meter above the floor.

Jonas’s brows met pensively.  “You might be right about Lana—there’s no way this is a good idea.”

“And another petal to the mystery unfurls,” Darmas drawled over his glass.

“Yeah, whatever.  Do you know where they are?”

“Of course. Master Kira—continues to cling to the Jedi way and is helping the less fortunate. She protects them, keeps them clothed and fed—sees to it they get free medical. Pretty sweet gig for Nar Shaddaa’s most unwanted.”

“Makes sense she’d go back to her roots, they took her in as a kid. What about Kimble?”

“That’s where things get a little complicated.”

Jonas rolled his eyes and sighed.  “Figures. What’s his deal?”

“Good deeds don’t come cheap.  Someone has to foot the bill.”

“Let me guess—whatever he’s into isn’t legal.”

“There may be hope for you yet, m’boy.”

“I’ll have you know I was this close to being Assistant Director of the SIS.” Jonas pinched the air for effect.

“The SIS is _not_ Imperial Intelligence. My point still stands.  I take it you’ve heard of the Face Merchants?”

“I thought they were shut down years ago.”

“On Coruscant—but they too, believe in fresh starts. You didn’t think the Black Sun would give up just because they were caught?”

“Farking idiot. He’s in deep isn’t he?”

“You don’t get much deeper, that’s for sure. He’s swapping faces faster than Rodians lose at Pazaak and making a fortune off thugs and kingpins alike. I’d actually considered seeing him myself—but why mess with perfection?”

“Why indeed?” Jonas said, his voice stony.  

Darmas swirled his drink.  “If you want my advice, I suggest you start with the Missus.  Figure out how you’re gonna cut loose those lost souls she keeps as pets.  I doubt she’ll leave them willingly.”

“She might if she knew what her worse half is up to.”

“People see what they want. She’s probably gotten good at rationalizing over the years. I’d spin the guilt angle myself—make her see this is no place for a kid to grow up. If that doesn’t work—you could stage an abduction to drive the point home—and while the tyke and his mother are away, a well-placed thermal detonator would take care of the rest of the problem.”

“Stay out of it,” Jonas barked.  “I’ll handle it—my way.”

“When will you learn? Asking nicely doesn’t work.”

“Killing innocent people isn’t the answer either. What the hell was Lana even thinking coming to you?”

“You’ll find my information is accurate and my suggestions while unpalatable to you, are effective.  My informants tell me Master Kira was last seen near the High-Security Lockdown, in the Alien Outreach Center—your friends in the SIS post there might be of use if things get dicey.”

“I just want to know one thing.  What are _you_ getting out of this? You’re not doing it out of the goodness of your heart…you’d actually need one for that.”

“Your wife has quite the list of people she wants found and believes she’ll be compensating me with an adequate amount of credits, but I assure you, my endgame is far more valuable than money—it’s _you_.”

“You’ll pardon me if I don’t find that comforting.”

“I hope this isn’t the last we’ll be seeing of each other, m’boy. Got a place to stay?”

Jonas nodded.  “Yeah. I’m sure you know where.”

“Y’know, that’s your greatest flaw—you get attached—to people, places.  Stop being sentimental. Take my advice. Get out of that three-room hovel and get a new place.  Start fresh. I guarantee that’s what your mother would’ve wanted.”

Jonas finished his drink and sprang out of the booth.  “I got what I came for, party’s over.”

“You know where to find me when asking nice doesn’t work out,” Darmas sipped the last of his drink.  “Keep the bottle.”

Jonas left the bottle on the table out of spite and left the way he came.  On the roof of the cantina, he took in Nar Shadaa’s gaudy cityscape. The artificially generated breeze carried the smell of exhaust, flat beer, and premium deathsticks and then he saw the source.  A party barge drifted past, and the retro hit from the band _Eloo and the Stinky 7_ blared through the gyrating bodies on board.

The song took him back to the night he and Lana barely escaped Acina’s death squad. They’d holed up in his safehouse and worked together on a way to free Theron from his captors.  His lip crept up with the memory.  He climbed down a fire escape and dropped into the alley below.    

The lingering smell of booze and deathsticks haunted him and his attention landed on an after-hours club he knew well.  He’d been down that road enough times to know it would end on a cloud-soft bed with too many limbs draped over his body and his mind dulled with a stupid joy that would fade too quickly.  His gaze fell on the white flesh where his wedding ring had been and Lana’s last words to him whispered in his mind. 

_Think kindly of me while you’re away._

He turned his back on the club and retrieved his speeder bike from behind the dumpster and sped off toward the safe house.

 

((to be continued…))

 

 

 

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Twelve**

Malavai Quinn had made a grave miscalculation and he needed to clear his mind. Most of all, he needed privacy. With each moment his impatience grew and it was beginning to boil over, scalding anyone within earshot. A solution had to be found and found quickly.

The lack of a landing pad and loading docks on the south-western side of the Odessen base meant it would most likely be deserted—mercifully so.

He passed the troops as they ran their daily drills with barely an upward glance. The further south-west he moved, the quieter the base became. Stacks of storage crates flanked the open hangar door and the forklift sat still and silent in its corner.

The air outside was crisp and curative and yet he had to remind himself to breathe deeply to savor its benefit.  The deck vibrated under his boots and he could see mounds of mossy stones beneath the honeycombed durasteel.

The deck was high enough off the ground that it seemed he walked among the tips of the giant, dark, evergreens.

Relaxation never came easily to him.  Even when he was alone, he caught himself standing at attention, hands clasped behind his back as if he were about to address the troops. It was imperative that he maintain decorum to serve as an example for the enlisted men and volunteers alike.  Early on, he’d learned to behave as if his betters were present—there was always the possibility that one of them might be watching from some unseen vantage point.

With some effort, he unlaced his fingertips and gripped the railing in front of him. Light and shadow dappled the man-sized ferns lining the river bank and the burbling song of the water wove a path through his consciousness, carrying him to places and people he longed for.  His hands tightened around the railing when familiar images were replaced by new ones. 

The scent of cedar and spruce gave way to the comforting fragrance of starched uniforms and the cool clime of Balmorran lake country.  Had the air changed, or was he merely imagining it?  If that wasn’t enough, the sensation of being watched dogged him until he felt compelled to turn around to confirm his solitude—and when he received his answer, he stood a little straighter. 

“My lord.”

“There you are,” Liatrix mock-scolded him. “Do you know I’ve been looking all over for you?”

“My Lord, forgive me, I wasn’t aware that you had need of me.”

The stern expression she tried for gave way to a playful smile. “Relax, I’m teasing.”  Something in his expression suggested he wasn’t amused. “I’m sorry. I’m intruding, aren’t I?”

“Of course not.” He successfully fought the smile that threatened to form but couldn’t stop his heart from racing. The closer she came, the louder and faster the beat hammered. “What can I do for you, my Lord?”

“On days like these, we should hold briefings outside,” she suggested as she approached.

“I suppose the equipment could be fitted with battery packs and made portable. I’ll look into it, my lord.”

“I was kidding—wow, you’re serious today.”

“Duty demands that I endeavor to be serious _every_ day, my lord.” 

She fidgeted with the elongated leatheris box in her hands, the package bound by a simple red ribbon.  “I know.”

“Clearly, something is on your mind—if I can be of any assistance…”

“Nothing like that. I just—I wanted to thank you,” she said, hesitating. “You’re the reason I’m alive—so I got you something—I hope you like it.”  She thrust the package at him and fell quiet, unable to look away once their eyes met.

“My lord, I don’t know what to say.”  His thumbs skimmed the supple leather and the slight parting of his lips suggested he was at a loss. 

“Go ahead. Open it.  I wanted to do this sooner, but with the new recruits and missions, time got away from me.”

He tugged the ribbon apart and cracked open the box.  “My lord—I am overwhelmed,” he breathed.  “Does this mean…”

“It means, that I’d like it if you served as my General—High General as a matter of fact.”

“I would be honoured.”

She nodded at the insignia plate nestled inside the box. “May I?”

“Of course, my lord.”

She removed the Alliance Insignia plate and pinned it on the left side of his uniform.  She smoothed the red and blue bars until they lay flat. Her fingertips lingered on his chest as she kissed his cheek. “Congratulations, General Quinn.”

“I’m humbled. Thank you, my lord.”

“It’s not as personal as I would’ve liked—a rank doesn’t quite convey the depth of my gratitude, but I hope you’ll like it all the same.”

“Service is its own reward,” he said in a muted voice.  His cheeks burned and he drew away from her, once more turning his focus to the river.

She peered up at him and smiled and the joy he felt in that moment troubled him. She leaned against the railing to face him. “I was hoping we could celebrate with dinner, tonight? If you’re free?”

“Just you and I?” He said, voice quavering.  

“Yes, unless you’d rather have a party?”

“Perhaps that would be for the best. I require no such festivity—the promotion is meaningful enough, but an informal gathering might serve to boost morale.”  His brows met and he lowered his gaze.

“What’s wrong?”

“I—nothing is wrong, my lord.”

“We’ve been friends long enough that I can see when something is upsetting you. Tell me.” She cupped her hand over his and gave it a squeeze.

His gaze alighted on the point of contact. Her skin was warm and soft and he wondered how it would feel in other places. “No—yes—no, I mean—you’ve…you consider us to be friends?” He stammered.

“Yes Malavai, I hope it’s all right to call you that when we’re alone?”

“If you wish, my lord.”

“Liatrix, _please_. Now tell me, what’s the matter?”

“I can’t—it’s of a personal nature.”

“Well, now you have me intrigued,” she chirped. “Is someone bothering you? It’s Jorgan, isn’t it? Well not to worry, I’ll make sure he’s Bey’wan Aygo’s problem from now on.”

“He’s willful and contrary, but no, he’s not the problem.”

“Tora? Or is it Len? No—I know. It’s Koth, the way he goes on about Valkorion,” she said with a revolted hiss at the back of her throat.

He shook his head.

“If not them, then who?” She chuckled. “Don’t make me go through the whole roster.  Whoever, or whatever it is, we can fix it.”

“My lord…permission to speak freely?”

“Always.”

“The problem—well—it’s you,” he whispered.

“ _Me_? I don’t understand.”

“You—you fluster me. I find myself distracted. It’s affecting how I should think about things—things I was certain of and now I question them. I think about you far more often than I should,” he rambled. “Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. I think about you too,” she confessed.

“You do?” He asked, his voice shaky.

“Is that so terrible?”

“No—I mean, yes. My lord—it can’t go on.”

“Because of your wife.”

He nodded, his shoulders falling. “I promised I’d never again betray her. I told you about Baras and how my misplaced loyalty to him nearly cost me everything that mattered.”

“I remember,” she said. “It was a terrible time for you.”

“What I did—was unforgivable and yet she forgave me. I didn’t expect that and I most certainly didn’t deserve it. In return, I vowed to spend the rest of my days atoning, but I never had enough time—she’ll never know the lengths I was prepared to go for her.”

“I think she probably had a pretty good idea.”  Liatrix drew a deep breath. “Which makes what I’m about to ask—awful—but…what if she’s _gone_? Five years is a long time—surely she would have found her way back to you by now?

“It’s a grim possibility I haven’t cared to dwell upon—but I can’t deny it’s a possibility. She was utterly devoted and persistent—she wouldn’t have given up—”

“Unless it was beyond her control.”

“Yes.”

“She sounds like an amazing woman.”

“She was—she shares your passion for living—you’re quite alike in that regard.”

“If that’s the case, I doubt she would’ve wanted you to stop living.”

“I suppose not—she would’ve considered that a waste.”

“I’ve been guilty of the same thing in a way, because of Valkorian. By not living my life the way I want, I’m letting him win and that’s the last thing I want to do.”

“You’re concerned he’ll hurt those close to you.”

“Yeah…I’m tired of living on his terms. None of us knows how much time we have.  Is it so wrong to want to make the most of it?”

“No, my lord.”

“I like spending time with you, Malavai.”

“I can’t deny that I’ve grown to enjoy your company as well—Liatrix.” He smiled. “Calling you by name seems so foreign to me.”

“Don’t let it be. I have a confession—whenever you say ‘my lord’ I keep expecting to turn around and find my father standing there.”

“I respected Darth Marr. He struck me as the wisest of the Dark Council and his loss was felt most deeply throughout the Empire.”

“I still wish I could talk to him. It’s unfair. Just when I got him back…he was taken from me. I’d give anything to talk to him again…but instead, I get stuck with Valkorion.” Her voice grew small and cracked and a glossy heat blurred her eyes.  “I’m sorry, I should go.”

“Please don’t.” His fingers closed around her wrist lightly—just enough to keep her from leaving his side. “Forgive me, my lord,” he whispered and drew her into his arms.

“For what?”

“This.”  His mouth covered hers and he relished the soft warmth of her lips as she responded. His hands moved up to frame her face and her fingertips brushed his wrists as they came up to rest on his hands.  His kisses were soft at first but grew deeper and more insistent and she seemed to dissolve against him until it was difficult to know where one began and the other ended. 

She moaned into his mouth and he shifted his body closer to hers until his right leg was trapped between hers. The gesture was intimate and bold and in this moment he didn’t care what damnation might result from it.  Her mouth was hot and sweet and the more he tasted, the greedier his appetite became.  

The grinding sound of the freight elevator as it descended behind them sounded closer than it was and a current of guilt seized him.  He forced himself away from her, breathless and fervent as he imagined claiming her there and then. His pulse pounded in his ears and a mindless glee clutched him.

She stared at him as if his kiss had stolen away thought and words and the galaxy around them.

The elevator caught the corner of his eye and something about it vexed him. “You’ve given me much to think about, my lord.  Excuse me—I must go. I can’t—” 

He didn’t wait for a word or a dismissal. He strode into the base, not daring to look back at her. For the first time in his life, he understood what it was a fledgling galaxy experienced when confronted with the all-consuming depths of a nova.

The further he escaped into the base, the more reality began to close in around him.  A briefing at 15:00 demanded preparations.  New calculations needed to be made and somewhere in between the streams of formulae, he realized the freight elevator had been empty and the question of why or who would send down an empty elevator irked him. 

The war room lay ahead. He buried himself in his datapad just as an answer came to him—the elevator was meant as an interruption and before he could consider the culprit of such a machination, a shadow fell over his path, followed by the source of that shadow—Theron Shan.

“Got a minute?” Theron began. “You and I—we need to have a little chat.”

“As a matter of fact, Agent, I _don’t_. I need to prepare for the briefing—there’s no time.”

“ _Make_ time,” Theron growled.

They veered away from the war room until they ended up in the vacant infirmary.  Theron shut the door behind him and crossed his arms.

“Now what’s this about, I don’t have all day,” Quinn barked.

“Professional courtesy, nothing more. I take it you’re aware of the Commander’s enhanced genetic structure?”

“I’ve no idea what you’re getting at, Agent.”

“What I’m getting at is that she has adaptive pheromones—like the Zeltron, the Falleen…in other words, she gives off pheromones that serve to attract those she’s close to.  The more time you spend with her, the more profound the effect.”

“I beg your pardon? Surely you’re not implying—and if you are, that’s _none_ of your business.”

“Lana mentioned your dedication to finding your wife, you’ve been searching for her for years and you’ve endured hardships and plenty of humiliation in that process.”

“Though I fail to see how it’s your concern that is an accurate assessment.”

“Until now, right?”

“I refuse to dignify that with a response.”

“Fine, whatever. Like I said, this is a professional courtesy, nothing more.  I’d hate to see you throw away all you’ve done to find your wife. Your feelings for the Commander, whether you want to acknowledge them or not, aren’t real.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I do, actually.  Long story short, a few years back the Commander had a near fatal reaction to a dart laced with Santherian Tenho root compounds.  In high enough dosages, it’s fatal to anyone with adaptive pheromones.  This isn’t common knowledge, but it’s no less true.”

“You expect me to believe your interference—this professional courtesy of yours to be completely altruistic, but I suspect there is more to it. You have ulterior motives where the Commander is concerned.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You sent the freight elevator down, didn’t you?”

Theron scowled.

“No need to reply, Agent Shan, I already know the answer. Furthermore, while the Commander was in recovery, you spent anywhere from two to five hours each night following your shift at her bedside.  Did you think I was unaware of your visitations?”

“That alone suggests you have a problem and those pheromones are the cause of it.”

“I would be remiss in the care of my patients if I didn’t review the security footage. The commander spoke of a presence at night. Owing to the pain medication, she was unable to discern who it was—so I investigated.”

“Look, Quinn, none of that matters. Just do yourself a favour—you still have samples of her blood? Test them.  Compare them against the galaxy-wide hematological database with other species who share the trait. I’m not lying to you.”

“And should the tests and database corroborate your information?”

“Well, there are options—you could synthesize a vaccine to counter the effect.”

“I’m a field surgeon. Is that even possible?”

“Yeah, a few years back her ex-husband created one.  Apparently, he specialized in developmental pharmacology. He and I were inoculated, so was Balkar.”

“Given his behavior, the inoculation was clearly ineffective.”

“Hey, it’s been over five years, it might be time for a booster, who knows.”

“If this is true, why wouldn’t she have mentioned it? I specifically asked if she had any known allergies or conditions.”

Theron sighed. “Because she doesn’t know.  I didn’t want her to start doubting her relationships—she was going through something at the time—I didn’t want to make it worse.  I was worried it’d push her over the edge. We decided it was best she didn’t know.”

“You were never in a position to decide for her.  She should’ve been told. To be ignorant of one’s own medical issues could be detrimental—even fatal as you yourself said. How did this happen?”

“Lia’s mother was genetically modified—it got passed down. Whatever you decide to do about this—be gentle. As much as I hate to admit it, you’ve been there for her and I’ll always be grateful to you for saving her life. I just don’t want to see her hurt.”

“I would never.”

“Good. It’s only fair you go into this with your eyes open.  That’s all I wanted to say.  Good chat.  I’ll let you get back to it.”  Theron tapped the counter he leaned against and straightened to leave.

“Agent…”

“Yeah?”  Theron stopped in the doorway. 

“Clearly you harbor feelings for her—why haven’t you acted on them?”

“As much as I’d _love_ to say that’s none of your business—I’ll be straight with you. We have history and I think she made it plenty clear that we’re gonna stay that way.  I’ll see you at the briefing. Oh, and General? Congratulations on the promotion. You more than earned it.”  Theron called out over his shoulder as he left.

Quinn slumped against his desk and palmed his jaw.

 

*

 

Liatrix eyed her chrono and descended the south-western ramp into the forest.  She strolled along the river bank, but the tranquil beauty of the setting was lost on her. The conversation with Malavai played over and over in her mind as she picked apart every nuance and detail for some deeper or hidden meaning. Had she said too much? Or too little? Was she being foolish? She reached out, allowing her fingertips to brush the ferns as she wandered past.

The forest darkened and swarms of fireflies sparkled in the canopy like misplaced stars and she made a mental note to herself to have tiny lights strung across the cantina for the party she hoped to throw.

The path widened into a clearing.  She strolled into the heart of it and a sensation of dread closed in.  The birds and insects had no voice here.  She was alone, but not. 

“Valkorion?” She whispered.

The apparition manifested before her.  His brows furrowed to form deep creases and his eyes blazed a livid yellow against the darkened sockets surrounding them.  “You have trifled with my patience for the last time,” he bellowed.

“What are you talking about? I’ve done everything you wanted.”

“I warned you.  I told you to keep your focus on the Eternal Throne and yet you continue to distract yourself with these pitiful dalliances.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, this is _my_ life and you’re just along for the ride.  I’m making progress. Taking the throne is going to take time.  It doesn’t help that you always want more from me, but never give me anything in return.  I need a way to get close to Arcann, so I can finish him once and for all.”

“I gave you my power and now you desire my secrets.  You’ve earned nothing. You are not worthy!”

“Your help is useless if I can’t seize control of Arcann’s fleet. Show me how to do that.”

“I am _not_ your servant. How dare you make demands of me, when I’ve given you everything? You’ve tried my patience for the last time.”

A surge of white-purple lightning formed between Valkorion’s hands, the energy engulfing Liatrix before she could respond. Odessen vanished in a blinding streak of light and with it, her awareness.

 

The lapping sound of water ebbing to and fro called to her. Darkness clung to her senses, filtering the sensory clues around her. She knew the ground was soft and wet before she could see it.  A beach?

The smell of ozone overpowered everything and pressed down on her like a weight.  Purple spots danced behind her eyelids like a cloud of fireflies she’d seen—somewhere—but where?

The memory of feathery ferns brushing her fingertips reminded her of the riverbank and then the scathing presence she hoped never to see again.

“Valkorion,” she croaked.   She rose gradually, first pushing herself up on her elbows and then painfully to her feet.  She plucked her com unit from her belt and tapped in the frequency to the war room.  “It’s me. Something’s wrong.  I need—back up.”

“They cannot hear you,” Valkorion drawled.

The com fizzed and sputtered and no answer came.  “You—you brought me here,” she hissed. “Why? I thought you were done with me.”

“Sometimes, evolution requires a push—or a sacrifice.”

Night had settled over the forest and some nocturnal creature howled in the distance, its call echoed by a dozen other shrill voices.  At night the trees resembled shadowy serrated razors and she was surrounded by them.  Vast swirls of distant galaxies and pinpoints of starlight were enough to illuminate the shore.

Liatrix’s hands settled over the borrowed sabers holstered at her hips.  She spun around, her gaze landing on the amber eyes glowing behind the spindly tangled brambles.

“You have forgotten what it means to face death alone,” Valkorion taunted.  “I intend to _remind_ you.”

 

((to be continued…))


	13. Chapter 13

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Thirteen**

 

 

“I haven’t forgotten _anything_ ,” Liatrix hissed.

“We shall see,” Valkorion taunted. With a simple back-hand, he disarmed her.  Her borrowed lightsabers fragmented against the granitite bluff behind her.  The crystals powering the weapons turned to ash, the nighttime breeze sifting them away to nothing.

Valkorion hurled torrent after torrent of black-purple energy. Liatrix rolled and dodged the first two, but the last trapped her inside a pain-filled orb.

“How did I ever believe _you_ were the one? You’re _weak_ and pathetic. When will you learn these romantic fancies of yours are worthless? They will not save you in the end.  Only _power_ can do that.”

Liatrix cried out and writhed against the agonizing maelstrom encapsulating her body. Fissures formed along the length of her bones and her skull, like cracks in parched soil after a groundquake. Her blood steamed and churned until she was certain she would fly apart in a colourful explosion.

“Then _kill_ me,” she croaked. “If that’s what it takes to be free of you—dammit, _kill_ me. I don’t want this, I want to be free.” Her muscles seized and her head jounced and lolled. “Do it!”

“I will _not_ gift you that release.  This is only a _fraction_ of the pain my children are capable of inflicting. Until you embrace your full potential, you will remain a pawn to fate, never its master.” 

“I don’t know what you want from me! Tell me or kill me.  I don’t care anymore.”

“Spare me your insipid whining! When will you understand? Love will not save you and if I must beat it out of you, so be it!”

“That’s what you did to your children—isn’t it?” She bit out.

“Death is an ocean in which we drown if we do not prepare,” he drawled. “You must become _more_ than you are—you must finish your training or you _will_ fail.”

He slammed her into the rock face and her head drooped.  A thread of bloody spittle stretched from her lower lip along with her consciousness.  The vertebrae in her neck creaked and a vice squeezed her mind until every happy thought she’d ever had turned syrupy and useless.

She slid down the bluff and fell onto her hands and knees. Blood dripped from her nose, dotting the stone between her hands. Her bones ground against each other as though the cartilage between them had been burned away when she tried to stand. “You keep talking about becoming more,” she panted. “ _Tell_ me what that means.”

“There is no simple answer. You must find it within yourself and until you do, you will continue to fail. I have no more time to waste coddling you.  There are matters which require my attention elsewhere, but before I go, I will leave you with a final token of my esteem.”

Another blast of his energy engulfed her, lifting her off her feet.  She railed against it even as it mended her bones and reknitted shredded muscle, sinews, joints and cartilage.  She cried out, the wind and stone carrying the echoes into the darkness as he made her whole.  He released his hold on her and she collapsed face down into the flaky loam.

“Fulfill your destiny and I will return,” he called to her as he faded from her awareness.

“I’ll find a way to end you,” she mumbled into the soil. She spat out a pine needle and wiped the dirt from her mouth.  The creaking in her neck was gone and with it the sensation of all the tiny bones being shattered.

“I was never your enemy. Remember that and claim _your_ destiny,” Valkorion whispered on the wind.  No sooner had he stopped speaking, he was gone. In a mad panic, she searched the corners of her mind for him, reached out with the Force to find any fragment he’d left behind but he was well and truly gone and she laughed, the sound hollow and out of control.

She dragged herself toward the shoreline on her belly and scooped a handful of water to her mouth.  It leaked through her fingers faster than she could drink.  She laid her head on her arm and sucked the water from the surface.  She slurped until she was sated, but not even the cool water was enough to stave off unconsciousness.

 

The darkness roiled in her mind, bringing with it dreams.  The Eternal Throne loomed before her, but as she approached it, she saw that it was not empty. Arcann occupied it, idly levitating his lightsaber, rolling it this way and that above his hand.

His eyes held the same stricken look in them as the day he ran her through.  “I had fear beaten out of me before I could walk—and the rest soon after. Valkorion feels nothing—he is a void, and feeling has no place in the void.  He will not stop until he has molded you into what he is.  The question remains—will you let him?”

A yellow-eyed shadow lingered at his side and it spoke with the sort of voice womprats might have if they could speak. “Brother…why bother with Father’s little pet?  I would wear her entrails as a stole to my next party. Just say the word.”

Arcann ignored the shadow.  “Answer me! Will you let him?”

Before Liatrix could respond, the setting changed.  She saw a beach and a lake and a void gathering strength above it.

A familiar female voice called out to her, “No. That path—isn’t for you. The living do not belong in _that_ place.  This way, come. I will show you the way back.” 

Liatrix groaned and woke with a start. She sputtered and coughed until she threw up the water she’d ingested.  A faint bluish ball of light hovered ahead of her—foxfire—she thought at first until she couldn’t deny the impulse through the Force to follow it.

The orb led her to a spiraling path and at its end, the light gathered in strength to form a woman kneeling within a circle of stone cairns.

Liatrix shivered at the sight of the cairns.  She shook her head as if this would chase away the notion that she was in another version of the same purgatory she’d shared with Valkorion while she slept in carbonite.

 _What if the last few months weren’t real?_ The thought chilled her.

As she drew closer, the energy pulsed with familiarity and Liatrix stiffened.  Her breathing hitched and her saber hand opened and closed reflexively. She remembered her broken weapons and swore.

The ghostly woman stood and turned to reveal herself.  “Welcome. We’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”

“Satele Shan…” Liatrix hissed.  “Why would _you_ be waiting for _me_? I have nothing to say to you—and I’m not interested in anything you have to say to me.”

“I am not the same person you knew in life. When I died, I gave myself to the will of the Force. You remember me as I was and likewise, I remember you as you were, but through the Force, I have moved beyond that which we knew and experienced in life. I bear no ill will toward you. We are here to assist you in the battle ahead.”

“I must’ve hit my head harder than I thought,” Liatrix grumbled.

“I assure you, your faculties are intact, but I sense you’re exhausted.  There is no need to question your perceptions. You have survived an ordeal—come, sit.”

“I prefer to stand.”

“That is your choice.”

“What do _you_ know about the battle ahead, or what I’ve been through?”

“We’ve been watching you for a long time—we’ve been here for years, waiting for you to come.”

“You keep saying, ‘we.’” Liatrix glanced about the clearing. “I don’t see anyone else here with you.”

“In the Force, we are never alone.  We sensed your awakening on Zakuul and the influence of our old enemy guiding you. We were witness to every event that led you to this place.  When we found you by the shore, we were faced with a choice—to bring you here, or _end_ you there.”

“That was _you_ —guiding me away from—there was a void and a beach,” Liatrix frowned as she tried to remember, but grasping the memory was like trying to hold onto water.  “I don’t think Theron would approve of you trying to kill me.”

“We didn’t bring you here to protect Theron’s feelings.”

“Right, cause when have they ever mattered to you?”

“You seek to wound me, but I assure you that is no longer possible.  In you, we sensed something we hadn’t in a very long time—hope.  Valkorion strengthened your connection to the Force.  You may be the greatest of us all, but the training you have had is not enough to prepare you for what lies ahead. You have much to learn.”

“From you?” Liatrix laughed ruefully.  “You have nothing to teach me. I defeated you in every way that matters.  I doubt Valkorion meant that I should continue my training with _you_.”

“You know the ways of the Jedi _and_ the Sith, but Arcann’s knights have learned to use the Force in a different way.  Instead of seeing it as a companion or a slave, they see it as a reward for their service. The more they sacrifice to uphold his commandments, the stronger they become.  They obey him without question.”

“They’re slaves and I will _never_ be like them.”

Liatrix sensed another familiar presence close by and shivered. Frost formed on the plants close to her and her breath became a fog.  Her heart hammered in her chest and the blood drained from her face.  The clearing spun and she sat heavily on a boulder.

“Those who do not bend, _break_.” The voice gathered into form and Darth Marr emerged from the ether to stand next to Satele Shan.

 “Father?! Is that _really_ you? I can’t believe it.”

“Valkorion may have destroyed my flesh—but not my reason for being.  After my defeat, I sought an ally to make things right again—but only one was my equal.  We met in a place, not of this life and we came to an understanding.  All that we have learned—we wish to pass on to you.”

Liatrix’s insides quivered.  She pushed up off the rock to stand before the two Force ghosts.  “I don’t believe any of this.  This is a trick.  This is Valkorion’s doing.”

“Valkorion is not present,” Darth Marr said.

“Why should I believe you—either of you?  He’s manipulating me—I’m through with your head games Valkorion,” she called out to the night air.

“Do you recall our conversation in the nursery, months before we left for Wild Space? We both sensed that time was running out for us.”

“Of course, I do.”

“You favoured your son in those moments—the son you named to honour me.  I told you, without sacrifice—we lose everything.”

“And I said, ‘but that doesn’t make it any easier to live with.’ It really _is_ you.”

“In light of Valkorion’s influence, your skepticism is understandable. I would expect no less from you.”

Liatrix lowered her gaze and stared at the dead leaves rustling at her feet.  “The fact that it’s really you—makes it _worse_.” She peered up into the mask she knew as his ‘true’ face. “I called out for you. I _needed_ you.  For five years, I was locked in carbonite and not a single day passed that I didn’t cry out for you— _beg_ the Force for you. I would’ve given anything. All I ever wanted was _you_ —and now you have the gall to stand here, and tell me that you’ve spent the last several years with _her_?

“That _she’s_ your equal? That of all the people in the galaxy to be with—you’ve been with her? She’s nothing to us and that you chose to be with her—makes me _sick_.”

“You’re angry, but your reaction will not help you defeat Valkorion or win the Eternal Throne,” Satele said.

“Shut up. Of course, I’m angry. You come here playing high and mighty—claiming that you’ve given yourself to the Force—but you’re still the same vindictive harpy you always were.  I suppose you’re happy now. You took the one person that mattered to me.  I suppose this is your revenge for Theron.  Welcome to the Dark side, Satele.”

Darth Marr drew closer. “That’s enough.  We have no time to waste with petty bickering. The war must end and to end it, you must rule the Eternal Empire.  We are here to prepare you for that outcome.”

“Rule it yourself.  I’m done here,” Liatrix snarled and turned on her heel.  “Stay away from me.  And Valkorion, if you’re listening, that means you too.  All of you, just stay the hell away from me!”  She threw over her shoulder and stormed up the hill.

Each step quickened until she broke into a run.  She gulped the cool night air until her lungs ached.  Certain that they would not follow her, she stooped to catch her breath.  She wanted to cry but no tears would come. Even her anger had left her. She ambled onward but felt nothing—not even anticipation of seeing the base again.  She frowned.

_I’m becoming like him. That’s what he wants._

Arcann’s question floated to the surface of her thoughts. _Will you let him?_

Liatrix looked up at the sky and marveled at how the cold made the night sky so clear. Each star blazed with life. If only life was as clear as that sky. The question needled her again.

_Will you let him?_

She shook her head and her sight blurred with heat.  “No.  I _won’t_.”

 

She trudged onward, the long night showing no sign of giving way to the light.  With the Force, she hid herself from the creatures in the forest.  A pale glow broke the darkness ahead and she moved toward it.  Her belly growled and her shivering had grown more persistent.  A crust formed on her lips from dehydration.

The trees gave way to a cave, its mouth accented by the dim glow inside.  She peered inside the cave and skulked along its walls and followed the bend. 

The glow beamed more powerfully, the deeper she progressed and with the light came the thrum of the Force. Her shadow against the cave walls stood tall and narrow and grew darker and more defined as she approached the light.

Her eyes widened at the sight ahead, her gaze following the jagged crystals lining the cave like the inside of a giant geode. The crystals held no colour or intent—their power so like the balance of the planet.  She traced the crystals and to her surprise they were warm.

Her thoughts took her back to the conversation she’d had with her father in the nursery.  The last thing he had said to her that night was just as true this night.

‘You— _you_ must survive,’ he’d said.

She laid her hands on the stalagmite before her and reveled in the comforting warmth.  “To survive—I need new lightsabers—ones that _he_ can’t break,” she said to herself.  “And I need to get out of here.”

After harvesting a pair of the milky crystals she felt drawn to, she slipped them into the reticule on her belt. 

Her com unit dangled at her hip, surprisingly intact after the night’s events.  After receiving static as an answer from the base, she used a small crystal to boost the signal strength and set it to beacon mode.  She sat with her back against the tallest crystal and fell into an uneasy sleep.

 

The hours passed and she woke to someone shaking her shoulder.  She squinted through the dim light and cocked her head.  “Theron? Is that you?”

“Yeah—it’s me.  I’m sorry I wasn’t there to thaw you out before,” he said gently.  “But I’m here now.”

“How did you find me?” She whispered as he helped her to her feet.

“I’ve been combing the whole planet since you didn’t show up for the briefing—figured something must’ve gone wrong.  Are you okay?”

Liatrix nodded.  “It was Valkorion—he lured me away—but he’s gone—at least for now. There’s more…”

“C’mon, you can tell us all about it when I get you back home.”

“What happened with the briefing—the mission?”

“It got a little squirrelly, to say the least. Jorgan found the Eternal Fleet’s transmission tower—he wanted to blow it up.”

“And did he?”

“No—turns out we got some unexpected help from Zakuul’s resident anarchist.”

“Anarchist?”

“Yeah—turns out it’s someone we know.  I’ll explain everything later.  Let’s get you back home.”

“Theron?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m sorry—for everything.”

“Me too, but let’s not dwell on any of that right now.  Deal?”

“Deal.”

((to be continued…))


	14. Chapter 14

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Fourteen**

 

“That it?” Andronikos Revel barked over his shoulder at the two purebloods seated behind him. 

Scourge stood and approached the viewport. The surface of the stony globe was marred by massive craters, but one was larger than the rest put together.  The rocky particulate shrouding the world made it appear as if it were trapped inside a ball of dense fog. “Yes—right where I left it.”

Vowrawn clapped his hands together and beamed like an only child on Life Day.  “Well done, my good Captain. I _knew_ you were the man for the job—getting us here free from incident.  Though I must say, I’d expected more given the stories.”

Andronikos scowled. “You talkin’ about _me_ or the planet?”

Vowrawn smirked. “Why the planet, of course.” He stood and paced the bridge of the _Sky Princess II_.  “Nathema played a formative role in Sith history, Captain.”

“Hmph. Looks more like a moon than a planet.”

“That wasn’t always the case—believe it or not, m’ boy, Nathema was once an agricultural world.”

“Hmm. So I’ve heard,” Andronikos grunted and dropped the ship into a low orbit.

“Darth Nox told you?”

“Nah—we didn’t spend a lot of time flappin’ gums. Heh. Get a load of that crater—must’ve been one helluva rock to make a dent _that_ big and kick up this much dirt, huh?”

Vowrawn crossed his arms, his fingers digging into his biceps. His face twisted until it resembled a Nekarr cat forced into a flea bath.

“Nathema wasn’t destroyed by a meteor,” Scourge cut in, “That caldera was ground zero—where the Emperor performed the ritual to consume all life on this world and make himself immortal.”

“He did _that_ all by himself?”

“No—he tricked the entire world into aiding him in his dark workings. He promised them great power—but what he neglected to tell them was that the power was only for himself,” Scourge said, his gaze landing squarely on Vowrawn.

“Isn’ that the way,” Andronikos scoffed. “If it sounds too good to be true, it usually is, am I right?” He tore into a ration bar, took a whiff and tossed it back into his pack.

“Quite,” Vowrawn clipped.

“That’s what concerns me,” Scourge muttered.

“No need to worry, old friend. I have matters well in hand, I assure you.”

Scourge twisted the ring on his facial tendril.  “I don’t care to be used as bait.”

“Not _bait_ —a _ruse_.”

“I see little difference.”

“I’m well aware you’d prefer a more direct approach—but in this case, I believe guile will serve us better—speaking of which, I trust your men will be along shortly, as we discussed, Captain?”

“Yeah.  By the time they’re through, there won’t be so much as a brass tack left behind—and they’ll deliver to your holding vault as agreed.”

“Excellent.  I’m beginning to see why Darth Nox has such faith in you, Captain.”

“Yeah, _faith_ —if that’s what you wanna call it, sure.”

Vowrawn smiled, but it didn’t reach all the way to his eyes.  The glint in them hardened until it was sharp as a shiv.

“This sounds more like a heist for your own benefit than a rescue,” Scourge grumbled.

“Why not both?” Vowrawn preened. “No reason we can’t profit from our good deed?”

The _Sky Princess II_ stuttered and her nose dipped sharply.  A shrill series of warning beeps rang out across the bridge and red lights lit up the controls. Andronikos hunkered down over the indicator panel and swore.

Vowrawn staggered back to his seat as the ship flip-flopped. “Status, Captain?”

“Starboard engine seized.  Damn space dust must’ve gummed it up somehow,” Andronikos snapped. “Gonna have to land sooner than planned.”

“So long as we remain in one piece,” Vowrawn muttered as he strapped in.

Scourge slid into the co-pilot’s chair. “Port side is overheating.  Can you vent to compensate?”

“Yeah.  After that, we should be able to glide on down.  It’ll be rough though.”

The shuttle plunged and cut through the atmosphere, the rocky surface rushing toward them in a blurry mash of grey.

“That’s our destination there,” Scourge indicated a grouping of temple-like buildings etched into the cliff face.

“Argh. I’ll do what I can—no guarantees. Hold on!” The ship skipped across the surface like a flat stone on water, grinding down in speed with each hop.  Chunks of the lower hull snapped off and skittered away. “Damn messed up planet,” Andronikos grumbled as the other engine cut out.  He tapped the brakes in short bursts and held his breath.

The ship lurched to a stop no more than nine meters from the temple entrance. “Managed it in one piece—more or less. Not bad if I do say so myself.”  Andronikos blew out a deep breath and slumped back into his chair.  Sweat dotted his forehead and he mopped it away with his sleeve.

Vowrawn unsnapped his seat belt and stretched. “How very thrilling.  I feel like a young man again. Well done, Captain.  That was an impressive show of skill.”

“What can I say? Not the first time I’ve stuck a tricky landing.” 

Scourge ignored them in favour of running a diagnostic. Every system lit up red and the engines coughed up gusts of steam.

Andronikos leaned in and frowned at the results.  “Looks like I got my work cut out for me. If I can’t get the _Sky Princess_ up and runnin’ we may have to hitch a ride with the boys.”

“Perhaps it would be prudent to warn your men—so that they can implement countermeasures against the particulate,” Scourge said.

The Captain dug into his tool stores until he found his trusty hydrospanner. “Agreed. Just have to replace the com relay.”

Vowrawn drew his hood up. “Do what you can, Captain Revel. We have our own mission ahead. Excitement awaits! Shall we, Lord Scourge?”

Scourge glowered and snatched up the fake slave collar and stun cuffs.  “Strange how time forces role reversals upon us.  Now I know how Revan must’ve felt when I presented _him_ as a gift to the Emperor.”

“Yes, but Revan didn’t know until it was too late. That’s where _you_ have the advantage, my friend.” Vowrawn clapped Scourge’s shoulder as he indicated the exit. 

“How comforting,” Scourge said sardonically.

 

*

 

The Corellian light freighter, _Serendipity_ , hurtled into hyperspace, the stars stretching into white-hot arrows before giving way to electric blue whorls.  

Darth Nox settled into the co-pilot’s seat and picked her nails.  “I understand you’ve led quite the colourful existence, Captain Gwanshoo.”

“Yah, well, I’m just a simple woman making my way across the galaxy, m’lord. That’s right, isn’t it? Er…do I call you Empress? Gotta say, I never expected to be smuggling the leader of the Empire around. Not in a zillion parsecs.”

“I can respect that, Captain. We all have to start somewhere and Empress is fine—or Darth Nox, _if_ you feel daring.”

Gwanshoo grinned. “Daring is my middle name. So, uh—if you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t you just go with the guys?”

“Because they thought it best I remain on Dromund Kaas.  I, however, beg to differ—I’m sure as a woman in charge of your own destiny you understand. Not to mention a little backup might come in handy.”

“Yeah, I get it. Typical. We’re the big tough men! We gotta protect the little lady, grrrr.”  Her milky white lekku twitched when she spoke.

“Nothin’ wrong with lookin’ out for a lady, Cap’n,” Gwanshoo’s co-pilot piped up as he wandered into the cockpit for his datapad.

Nox eyed the broad-shouldered sandy-haired man, her lip edging up at the sight of taut abs peeking out from his leather coat.  “Nothing wrong indeed,” she purred.

“Try convincin’ the Cap’n of that, Empress.  I’ve been tryin’ for years. She’s as stubborn as a bull Ronto in front of a trough full o’ groats.”

 “Groats?” Nox’s brow arched as she shrugged for an explanation.

“It’s a kind of animal feed, my lord.  Don’t mind him. That’s just Corso, my partner-in-crime and better half.” Gwanshoo gritted her teeth and gave him the eye as she shooed him away.

Corso blushed. “Well, if you ladies, will excuse me, I gotta go polish my Torchy.”

“That’s not a euphemism for masturba—”

Gwanshoo giggled. “Uh no, my lord. That’s what he calls his blaster. He’s lookin’ to clean it.”

“Pity, I rather enjoyed the thought of it,” Nox purred.

“Thinkin’ ain’t a crime, my lord. I do it all the time.”

The two women fell quiet under the dim orange lights of the control panel until the clatter of the approaching ship’s droid broke the silence.  “It was suggested to me by our Wookiee companion that you might enjoy some refreshment, my lord.” The droid stooped to present the tray of assorted beverages.

“Thanks, XL-R8.”

The droid retreated and Nox sipped her Corellian brandy.  “So—you’re certain there’s no chance they’ll detect us.”

“Newp. Not a one. What kinda smuggler would I be if I didn’t know how to hang back?”

“Point taken.” Nox turned her attention to the galaxy boiling around them and lost herself in it.

“You’re really worried about them aren’t you?  Hope I’m not over-steppin’ but I get this vibe from you.  You’re expecting trouble.”

“Are you Force-sensitive?”

“Nah. Just damn good at readin’ people. Been doin’ it ever since I was a kid back on Ryloth.”

“You have a gift, Captain, and it serves you well. You’re right. I have a bad feeling about this—who knew I cared so much? I didn’t.”

“Funny how that goes, huh? Sometimes you don’t see what you’ve got ‘til you stand to lose it.”

“I don’t lose—and I don’t plan on starting now.”

“Me either, m’lord,” Gwanshoo said gently. “It’ll be a’right. Get ready. We’re comin’ out of hyperspace.”

The freighter slowed as they entered the Chorlian Sector and Gwanshoo’s lekku writhed.  “Is that Nathema?”

“Yes—what a perfectly horrid little world—and what is _that_ around it?”

“Sensors indicate it’s space dust—debris.  Strange that gravity hasn’t pulled it into rings—that’s what usually happens.”

“Nathema isn’t your typical world—the Emperor devoured its life force and that of every living thing on it a thousand years ago.  The Force doesn’t exist here—it’s a void—and it’s already giving me a headache.”

“Flying through _that_ might be a problem…unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless we do _this_ …” Gwanshoo pulled back on the control column and tapped at her instrument panels.  The freighter arched sharply and swooped about in an elegant loop.

“You’re going to take her in backward—which will reduce the amount of intake.”

“That’s the plan. The engines will still need a good cleaning after this, but it should keep them from seizing up.  Lekku crossed.”

Nox’s brows twitched together as she watched their descent on the monitor.  “I don’t like this.”

 

*

 

Vowrawn grimaced as they approached the temple entrance.  The Force void gnawed at his senses like an animal chewing its way out of his skull. He drew his hood more tautly and marched onward.

Dust sifted across the barren surface, carrying with it tumbleweeds of light debris.  In the distance, hordes of voreclaws stalked the rocky landscape.  The air was dry and smelled like nothing.

“Strange that no one has come to challenge us,” Scourge muttered. The Force void needled his skin and a blood-like perspiration beaded on his flesh. A dull chatter rolled around in his mind, but he couldn’t understand the words.

“Hardly the welcome I was hoping for.  I must admit I’m rather disappointed, old boy. I’d expected some fanfare for my victorious capture of the Hand’s most heinous traitor.”

“Perhaps we’re walking into a trap.”

“Perhaps, but that’s what makes it exciting, doesn’t it?”

Scourge gnawed at the inside of his cheek. “I could do without that particular brand of excitement.”

The wind carried thousands of whispers and Scourge stopped.  “The temple is deserted—we need to leave.  Something has gone awry.”

“I’m sure the void is playing havoc with our senses. We should at least investigate. We’ve come this far…”

Scourge shot a glare over his shoulder and continued up the stairs and threw back the temple doors.  His concealed wrist holster itched and he fought the impulse to arm himself.

The torches flared to life at their presence but the facility was empty.  Scourge ran his fingertips across the surface of one of the research tables.  Goblets half-filled with liquid remained and a datapad lay open, it’s battery indicator still strong. “They’ve vacated recently. You’re not going to find what you came for.”

Vowrawn threw back his hood and strode toward the computers. He pulled a data spike from inside his robes and set to slicing the databanks.  The progress bar crept along imperceptibly.  He rolled his chin tendril between his fingers and swore. 

Scourge studied the open datapad. “Anything of value has been extracted—but it begs the question why?”

“It’s not as if it was a secret that I was coming.”

“Clearly they don’t wish to make the exchange.”

“You have no idea how eager they were to execute you, my friend.  There must be another reason—no matter—if Darth Fernal is here, I mean to find her.  They did mention she was in stasis.”

“Fine.  We’ll search the temple and _then_ we’re leaving.”

Vowrawn nodded grudgingly. “Finally,” he muttered and snatched the completed data spike from the terminal.

“I believe we’re long past the need for these,” Scourge said as he shucked the fake slave collar and stun cuffs.  The devices clattered to the floor and with a flick of his wrist, the hilt of his lightsaber sat coolly against his palm.

The whispers grew in volume and number and Scourge shook his head as if this would silence the voices. 

The further they continued, the more the forgotten dead persisted, clinging to the living like cobwebs.

Vowrawn cocked his head.  “I feel it too, my friend.  The effect this world is having upon us is unsettling at best.”  He pocketed the spike and drew his weapon.  “This way,” he called to Scourge over his shoulder.

They searched every antechamber and came up empty. As they neared the heart of the temple, the air cooled and the whispers grew louder.  Scourge threw back the doors and shook his head. The phantom whispers at once fell silent. “I sense—nothing.”

In the center of the room, a single stasis unit remained suspended over an ancient sigil. A black-purple glow emanated from the device. 

“There,” Vowrawn breathed.  He strode toward the center of the room with cautious, measured steps, but when he arrived at the stasis unit he paled and slapped the lid with his hands.  “This can’t be!”

Scourge ambled up beside him. “It’s empty.”

“But where would they have taken her?” Vowrawn snapped.  His brows furrowed into a deep chasm and his eyes flashed with impatience.

Scourge narrowed his eyes.  “This woman—she means a great deal to you.”

“She saved my life.”

“Perhaps, but there is more to it—who is she to you?”

Vowrawn’s eyes flashed, but Scourge wouldn’t back down. Vowrawn circled the stasis unit and smiled wistfully.  “Fernal, is my granddaughter.  Her mother was a secret I struggled to keep for decades—only one man ever knew of her existence.”

“Who?”

“Darth Taxon…he’s long dead, defeated by Darth Marr.  It’s a complicated story—suffice it to say I was a young man ill-prepared for fatherhood. I had ambitions and I was ashamed. I saw to it my Force-blind daughter found a home with the best people and left it at that…but I always kept a watchful eye from afar. When _her_ daughter was born—and gifted with the Force, I saw to it she have every advantage—including a privileged education at the Sith Academy.”

Scourge nodded.  “Had you told the truth from the off, I wouldn’t have questioned your motivations as much as I did.  Does Nox know?”

Vowrawn shook his head. “What would she think—knowing I have a granddaughter five years older than she? That I was ashamed of having a Force-blind child?”

“I don’t think it would matter,” Scourge said in a low voice. 

“How strange it seems to speak of it now, after all these years…it’s surreal.”

“But in knowing the truth—I will assist you in finding her, you have my word.”

Vowrawn nodded and clapped Scourge’s shoulder and a quiet moment passed between them.

“There’s nothing here,” Vowrawn admitted reluctantly, his breath ghosting about his face.

Scourge shifted his gaze, his body tensing as if every nerve ending suddenly fired an alert. “Something _is_ here and we need to leave _now_.”  He started for the doors but some unseen force blocked him.

They ignited their lightsabers in unison and stood back to back.  “I _know_ that presence,” Scourge muttered over his shoulder.

“Valkorion,” Vowrawn hissed in agreement.

The Emperor’s voice boomed from every corner of the deserted temple. “Did you think that the pair of you would stroll into _my_ temple, on _my_ world, and take what belongs to _me_?  I suppose I should expect no less from a vile traitor and a serpent.”  

Valkorion’s spirit manifested before them, eyes blazing.

 

((to be continued…))


	15. Chapter 15

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Fifteen**

 

The _Serendipity_ landed next to what remained of the broken _Sky Princess II_ outside the Nathema temple and headquarters of the Emperor’s Hand.

Andronikos mopped the dusty sweat from his face as Nox and the Twi’lek smuggler captain disembarked.

 Nox’s pale grey eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.  She rushed to Andronikos’s side but was unable to take her eyes off the mangled wreck of a ship he’d taken so much pride and pleasure in. “Are you all right?” She ambled alongside the vessel and ran her hand over the hull.

He leaned against the ship and crossed his arms, the ball of his shoulder pressing against the cool metal. Tall and lean, his shadow fell over Nox. “Yeah, I’m a’right. Had some engine trouble. Hmph. Looks like you made it down in one piece though.”

“We backed in—it saved the engines.  Will you be able to fix her?”

“With enough time I can fix anything—but that’s the problem, isn’t it? We don’t got time.”

“Looks like you could use some help.”

Gwanshoo stooped to take in the damage and cast a sympathetic glance their way. “Corso and I can give you a hand. I’ve got some spare parts in the hold.  I’ll get Bowdaar to unload ‘em.”

“I’ll take any help I can get,” Andronikos grunted. “Sooner we get off this rock the better—it’s too damn quiet. I don’t like it.”

Gwanshoo nodded and headed back to her ship, leaving Nox and Andronikos alone.

Nox scanned the area. “Where’s Vowrawn and Scourge?”

“Your _Sith_ are in there,” he said, giving a nod toward the temple. “Reckon you’d better see what’s what, they’ve been gone a while.”

“Will you be all right here?”  She gave his elbow a squeeze.

“Pft, you know me. If the galaxy ended, it’d be me and the roaches left.” 

Nox chuckled. “No truer words—but if I’m not back within the hour, leave. Don’t look back, just leave.”

She started for the temple when he caught her wrist, gently holding her fast. “Not without you, y’hear?”  

Nox didn’t need the Force to sense the gravity behind his steely blue eyes. “I gave you an order.” 

“Hmph. Like that’s ever stopped me,” he said meaningfully.

She smirked playfully. “If I’d ever wanted to stop you, I would’ve. One hour, understood?”

“Damn Sith,” he snorted.

Before he could protest further, she gathered her robes and started toward the temple.

Inside, Nox reached out across the Force but instead of finding Vowrawn or Scourge, she was met with a disorienting murkiness. A throbbing ache gathered behind her forehead and her eyes twitched and burned as if she hadn’t slept in months. The sight in her left eye darkened as if she were seeing through a red filter. Her body shook and the lack of the Force tore at her awareness.  She pinched the bridge of her nose and winced. 

Fresh scuff marks made by two sets of boots caught her eye. She followed the marks to the heart of the temple and froze outside the chamber door. Her breath caught at the sound of Valkorion’s thundering baritone and Vowrawn’s devilish tenor.

Through the gap between the door and the wall, she watched Valkorion’s spirit fluctuate in both opacity and strength. Valkorion diminished in time with Vowrawn’s taunts and Nox nibbled on the inside of her lower lip as she formulated a plan.

 _Hmm. Risky,_ she thought, but _I have to do something._

 

*

Vowrawn retracted his lightsaber.  “As always, I applaud your superior gamesmanship—surely Servant One informed you that our misunderstanding was just that—a misunderstanding. Darth Fernal was to be released into my custody upon delivery of the traitor.

“As you can see, _I’ve_ upheld my end of the bargain. Release her and we’ll be on our way. Do with _him_ , as you will.” Vowrawn waved his hand dismissively at Scourge. “He is my gift to _you_.”

“I ought to cut you down where you stand,” Scourge spat, his lightsaber’s growl adding weight to his threat.

Valkorion brushed his palms together. “Spare me your feeble theatrics. I would see you _both_ die before making good on any false bargains.”

Vowrawn’s eyes gleamed as sharp as a nexu’s. “Need I remind you that I freed your _beloved_ Entity? Had I not, she would be withering under Baras’s leadership with the rest of us.”

“Then beg her favour, not mine,” Valkorion hissed.  His spirit faltered but quickly regained definition. “Darth Fernal is my Wrath and will remain in my service. When her conditioning is complete, she will be utterly and completely loyal to _me_ —a concept foreign to you _both_.”

A door at the far end of the temple caught Scourge’s eye. Gradually, he moved in a semi-circular arc around Valkorion, forcing the spirit to turn his back to the entrance, as he closed the distance between himself and the rear exit.

Vowrawn smiled slyly as he echoed Scourge’s migration. “If conditioning assured loyalty then why seek to destroy your daughter? You seek _more_ than loyalty—more than control—dare I say it, you seek to _possess_.”

Valkorion’s spirit blinked, this time nearly vanishing completely before reappearing. The temple rumbled and shook. Dust and debris sifted from the rafters, turning the living pale. Both men exchanged furtive glances but recovered before Valkorion noticed what they saw outside the entrance.

*

Nox nodded her approval as the men altered their position. Her body seethed with a red-black energy and her eyes glowed violet as she envisioned a link between herself and Valkorion.  The Force void tested her focus and the Force energy idling within her.  Her aura took on a purple hue as the tether to the Emperor’s ghost strengthened.

She rose, her arms extended as she fed the connection between them with everything she could muster. The tether coiled around Valkorion’s spirit as she sought to bind him against his will. The energy sparking from her fingertips looped around the tether between the living and the dead and yanked him closer.

Valkorion whirled on the entrance, his eyes fierce and his expression knotted with rage. “You dare attempt to bind _me_ with Erghast’s pathetic little ritual?” He roared. “No one can bind _me_!”

Nox tumbled to the floor and landed in an exhausted heap. “Give us what we came for,” she hissed between breaths. Her power frayed and vanished into Nathema’s ever hungry Force void.

The temple shuddered and shook and Nox scrambled to her feet. The floor cracked, sundering the temple into thirds. Chunks of debris crashed around them.

“Never! Instead,” he drawled, “I give you _death_.”  Valkorion vanished. The temple floor shattered into islands. Boulder-sized stones and timbers crashed down. Scourge charged toward the door at the rear of the temple. The stones piled into a thick mountain of debris behind him.

Vowrawn sprinted toward Nox. Stricken, he called out to her, but she couldn’t make out what he said. For the first time, she saw panic well in his eyes.  She threw out her arms to keep the boulders from raining down but the Force deserted her. She screamed. The stones thundered down raising a dust so thick she could no longer see Vowrawn.

“Veles! No!” She cried out.

Acid green bolts of plasma energy pelted the temple as several Zakuulan ships bore down on the ancient chamber.  She tore through the dusty fog and tumbling debris, searching the rubble for him.  A flash of green lit up the temple and darkness stole away her awareness.

 

*

 

 

 Andronikos cocked his head at the drone of distant, but incoming engines. “The hell?” A squadron of Zakuulan bombers swooped over the temple in a coordinated airstrike.

Bowdaar snarled and shook his hairy fists at the sky.

“That’s not good,” Gwanshoo barked.  “Corso, get ready for takeoff!”

“Don’t gotta ask me twice,” Corso snapped. “But what about the others?”

Andronikos threw down his wrench and drew his blasters. “Get yer ship ready—but stay outta sight. I’ll get ‘em.”

“You heard him,” Gwanshoo growled.

 

The bombers came about for one more pass before breaking off the attack.  Andronikos skulked along the boulders and bluffs and tore headlong toward the entrance carved into the cliff face.

Inside, he choked on the dust until he pulled his kerchief up over his mouth and nose as a makeshift filter.  “Too damn dark to see anything,” he grumbled. 

He felt his way along the rough-hewn walls and scavenged a piece of wood the size of a club. A blast from his pistol turned the head into an ember and with a few patient puffs, he managed to grow it into a flame. 

A sizeable mountain of stone blocked his path. Light leaked in from the top of it, suggesting there was enough room for him to wriggle through to the other side.  He propped the torch and cleared away enough armfuls of stone, so that he could crouch and squat, instead of crawling over on his belly.

The rocks tumbled and rolled as he descended.  A cough somewhere ahead echoed through the chamber, the small plaintive sound urging him on.   The winding corridors twisted and turned. His eyes itched and watered, and he fought the urge to paw away the dust caking his lashes.

A timber blocked his path and he rammed his shoulder against it.  Only after his arm turned numb, did the beam give way.  He crouched and waited for something to collapse, but when it didn’t, he crept onward. Another weak cough and a groan lured him further into the temple. 

An enormous jagged chasm kept him from reaching the center of the chamber.  His gaze shot around in the dim light until it landed on a fallen rafter.  He bridged the narrowest part of the chasm with the beam and inched over it.  A dust-covered mound of dark fabric lay ahead and his eyes grew wide.  He tore the kerchief from his face and skidded toward the body.  He dropped the torch. “Aw—no—no—no,” he grunted.  Gingerly he turned Nox over and held her limp body against his.  He squeezed his eyes shut.  “This can’t be happening…”

A raspy breath escaped her and he drew back to check her over.  “Don’t do this to me Sith,” he gasped.

“Veles…” She mewled.

“Where is he? Coward didn’t leave you here did he?”

“Have to…find Veles.”

“A’right, a’right. Lie still.  I’ll find ‘im.”

Andronikos snatched up the torch and held it over the surface to cast as wide an arc of light as possible.  A dusty piece of scarlet material caught his eye and he recognized it as Vowrawn’s sash.  His gaze shifted between Nox and the sullied robe and he ran his hand over his stubbled jaw.

He turned away and after a couple of steps, he froze. “Dammit,” he grumbled under his breath and mentally berated himself as he returned to the sash.  Dropping to his knees, he plowed the smaller rocks aside with his arms. The larger pieces he shoved aside until they gained momentum and tumbled into the chasms. The mountain crumbled and a small avalanche tumbled from the top to hinder his progress.  A broken section of the ceiling teetered above him and he glanced up. With every tumbling stone, the ceiling became more unstable.

Slowly, he tossed aside several more rocks, taking care to disrupt as little as possible.  He unearthed a section of Vowrawn’s lower robes and winced. The Sith’s limp dusty hand flopped against Andronikos’s leg.  He bunched the material in his hands and tugged a little at a time until he’d freed the Sith’s body. Bloodied and swollen, Vowrawn looked as if he’d been on the losing end of a bad bar fight.

The ceiling wavered and a section broke off to allow a thin shaft of dusty light to cut through the darkness.  Andronikos eyed the gleaming shaft like an intruder. The light had no business being there and if he could’ve punched it, he would have.

Voices hissed from the chamber’s entrance.  Bowdaar and Corso shoved aside the remaining debris to clear a path.  “Captain? Did you find ‘em?” Corso called out.  His attention fixed on Nox and he winced. “She’s not—is she?”

Andronikos shook his head. “No—but she’s hurt bad.”

“What about him?” Corso called out and held up a lantern.

Andronikos turned away from the younger man and pawed Vowrawn’s throat for a pulse.  The Sith’s flesh was cool against his palm.  He squeezed his wrist for a pulse and frowned.

“Well?” Corso grunted.

Andronikos shook his head.   

 

Corso dropped his gaze and stared at the pebbles between his boots.  “Wasn’ there another Sith with ‘im? He lifted the torch and drew the light over the massive pile of boulders and stone.

“I doubt even Scourge could survive that,” Andronikos admitted.

“You’re probably right,” Corso mumbled. “Captain says we need to get a move on, in case those bombers come back.”

“Yeah.

Corso ran his hand through his hair. “I feel bad for her…husband and friend, both gone.”

“Yeah,” Andronikos grunted.  “Better take his body.  She’ll wanna bury him right—do whatever it is Sith do for their dead.” 

Corso gestured at Bowdaar and the Wookiee moved in carefully to collect Vowrawn’s body.  “What about their friend?”

“You think we’re gonna find him under all that? Might even bring down the rest of this damn deathtrap on our heads.”  

Corso lifted the battery-powered lantern and eyed the collapsed ceiling.  “There’s not much holdin’ it up.”

Andronikos knelt and scooped Nox into his arms.  “C’mon sweetheart, let’s go,” he murmured.

“Veles,” she whimpered without waking.

Her head lolled against his chest and blood snaked out the corner of her mouth.  Outside the temple, Andronikos squinted against the light, and the group somberly boarded the _Serendipity._

((to be continued…))

 

 

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Sixteen**

 

Jonas Balkar turned up his collar and kept his head down as he navigated the upper industrial sector on Nar Shaddaa. He missed the neon lights and the big band music so readily found on the other levels. 

Bundles of exposed pipes overhead belched thick clouds of steam around the data storage towers. If he squinted hard enough, he could imagine the data units as skyscrapers against a putrid green sky, but it wasn’t much of an improvement.

 _The entire level was a bit like crawling up a Hutt’s butt_. He chuckled to himself and kept walking. Little changed on this level. Tired, joyless, and drab, it looked like he felt.

It was hard not to think his best days were behind him.

The smell of melting plasteel hung in the air, making his head throb. Trying to keep from inhaling only made it worse.  At the corner to his right, a lean, shaky man traded the coat off his back for a packet of glitterstims offered by a nervous Rodian.

A craving bloomed inside him. The promise of artificial joy was enough of a temptation that for a second he thought about hitting up the Rodian himself.

 _That could be you in ten years._ He quickened his pace and after catching his reflection he frowned. “Make that five. Who are you trying to kid?” He muttered under his breath.

He ran his hand over his face as if this would somehow wash away the mileage. He patted his jacket down for a cigar but found none and caught himself wondering if he was a fool for going against his father’s advice. Maybe it would’ve been smarter to approach Kira first.

Before he could settle on an answer he found himself at the storefront of Doc’s operation. The door hissed open to a surprisingly bright, clean, and well-appointed clinic inside. Then again, no one would be crazy enough to rob the Black Sun’s face merchants or their star surgeon.

A chime sounded when he stepped inside and a thick meaty arm dropped to keep Jonas from going any further.  “Got an appointment?” The bruiser barked in a gruff voice.

“Wow. I expected someone prettier. Lemme guess, you’re the _before_ model…that or Doc’s standards have dropped.”

“Appointment only. No walk-ins.”

“Then why leave the door unlocked?”

The bruiser wrenched Jonas’s arm and crushed him face first against the wall. His cheek collided with his mouth like a twisted speeder wreck. “Go easy,” he sputtered. “I like my nose where it is, thanks.”

A flash of a white coat down the hall caught Jonas’s eye and he struggled against the bruiser.

“Deego! What did ol’ Doc say about greeting the patients, huh? Caffa and a holozine only. Is that so much to remember? That better not be my one o’clock.”

“Sorry, Boss. Old habits. Caffa and holozines are over there sleemo.”

“I’d rather a dancer and some kri’gee,” Jonas grunted and soothed his jaw.

Doc cringed. “Balkar? The hell do _you_ want? On second thought? I don’t wanna know.”

Deego’s fists tightened until his knuckles cracked. “You want me to finish greetin’ him, Boss?”

“Yah. Take out the trash. I don’t have time for this. Got a bigwig coming in from Belsavis.”

The bruiser hauled Jonas toward the door by the scruff of his coat and the back of his belt and readied to toss him out bouncer style. 

Jonas struggled against the brute.  “Hey! I just need a minute.”  He broke free, darting this way and that to evade the former bouncer. “Liatrix is alive.”

“What’d you say?” Doc’s brows pinched together.

“She’s _alive_ —she sent me.”

Doc blinked and stared at Jonas.

“Boss?”

Doc shook his head. “I’ll deal with this myself. Go to lunch. Don’t hurry back.”

“Sure thing, Boss.” The brute stalked out of the clinic, leaving Jonas and Doc alone.

“Long time,” Jonas began.

“Nowhere _near_ long enough.” Doc rounded the reception counter and sifted through his files. 

“No kidding. I got a message for you.” Jonas snatched up a stylus and data pad off the counter and wrote, ‘Is it safe to talk here?’

Doc shook his head.  “I gotta get ready for my next patient. You’ve got five minutes while I do that.”  He gestured at Jonas to follow him into his office.  He activated a droid to emit white noise. “A’right. Talk. She’s really alive?”

“Yeah—and she’s leading an alliance against the Eternal Empire, but we need people.  Good people. She always said you were the best.”

Doc smirked, but before he could get the jibe out, Jonas cut him off.  “She said you were the best _doctor_. We need to establish a hospital at the base—you’d be running it.”

“It was all over the holonet when she and that Sith lord bought it.”

“That Sith was her father.” Jonas sighed. “Long story, short—she was trapped in carbonite for five years. Will you join us?”

“I can’t just cut and run, Balkar.  I have responsibilities—people who rely on me.”

“I get it. You’re worried about Kira and your son.”

“How the hell did you know?”

“Spy, remember?”  Balkar spread his hands.

“It’s not just them…it’s the people. Kira looks after them. They _need_ us. She won’t leave them behind and I won’t leave my family.”

“Lana’s going to kill me,” Jonas hissed under his breath as an idea struck him. “Who said anything about leaving anyone behind? Bring them with you—Kira, your kid _and_ the people that rely on you. We’re going to need all the help we can get.”

“They’re not skilled, Balkar.  They have no business on a base. And who in the hell is Lana?”

“She’s my wife—and one of Liatrix’s advisors. Look your people don’t have to fight—you’ll need help in the medical center, right? And there’ll be all kinds of opportunities for them. They’ll have a roof over their heads, food in their bellies and medical care.”

“They have that now.  Why the hell would we leave? Gimme one good reason.”

“I’ll give you two: freedom and purpose. Good enough? You won’t have the Black Sun or the Eternal Empire breathing down your neck. Not to mention this isn’t exactly the best place to raise a kid.  At least you can breathe on Odessen and you don’t have to worry about getting abducted by some enforcer and thrown into slavery.”

“I dunno, Balkar. Ol’Doc manages to slip under the radar just fine. Besides it’s not entirely up to me.”  His holocom chirped and flashed.  “Gotta call coming in.” 

“Fine—do what you have to do.”

Doc frowned at the incoming frequency.  He took several steps away from Jonas and hit ‘receive.’

Kira’s image sprouted from the center of the unit.  She shielded a small dark-haired boy against her and crouched low. “I don’t have much time, so just listen. We’re under attack. Don’t come home.”

“By who? Who’s attacking us?”

“Justicars. They’re raiding the settlement—like they’re looking for something or someone but won’t say what. I’ve done what I can, but we’re gonna have to make a run for it. It’s chaos. I had to kill some of them.”

“A’right. Here’s what we’re gonna do.  Go to the spot we talked about and sit tight.  I’m comin’ to get ya.”

“Don’t get seen!” Kira snapped before her image winked out.

Jonas’s brows met. “Trouble?”

“Yeah. Convenient. A little _too_ convenient. You show up, wanting us to cut and run and our settlement gets raided.  Was that your back up plan? Force us out?”

“You think _I’m_ responsible? I get it. You hate me, rightfully so even, but I wouldn’t do that.” _But I know who would_ , he thought. “Right now, you need all the help you can get, and that’s me.”

“Fine,” Doc grunted and snapped the lock on the front door.  “We’re taking _my_ speeder.”

“Just as well, I walked over.”

Doc made a face. “Walked? The hell kind of a spy does that?” 

“The kind that doesn’t wanna stand out.  C’mon, let’s go.”

 

*

 

A luxury speeder with darkened windows pulled up to the clinic.  The chauffeur droid got out and rounded the vehicle to open the rear door.  The passenger, a tall pale man wearing a bespoke black suit emerged and straightened his clothes.

“Wait here.”

The armed droid stood guard by the vehicle and waited.  After trying the door and finding it locked the pale man frowned and tapped his cybernetics.  He scowled at the readout and after tapping the implant twice more, he returned to the droid.

“It appears my solution has become the problem.”

“Indeed sir. Shall I take care of it?”

“Please.”  The pale man slid into the rear seat.  

“Anything else sir?”

 “Where on this pustule of a planet can I find a proper cup of tea?”

“I know just the place, sir.”

A scythe-shaped smile spread across the pale man’s face. “Very good, LQ-D8.”

*

 

 

Doc pulled into an alley and backed in behind a dumpster. 

“This the spot you were talking about?” Jonas asked.

“Yeah—but there’s no sign of ‘em.”

“How far is the settlement from here?”

“Not far. Round the corner, down the ramp.”

They were about to walk away when they heard a thump from inside the dumpster.  Jonas motioned to Doc to stand back and cocked his pistol before lifting the lid.  He’d barely raised it when he was met with a small voice.  “Daddy?”

“That’s my boy,” Doc skittered over the hood of the speeder and pushed Jonas aside to throw back the lid the rest of the way.  He reached inside, a thin pair of arms reaching back for him. 

“I’m scared,” the boy sniffled. “And it stinks in there.”

Doc clutched the boy close. “I know buddy. You’re safe now though. Daddy’s here. Where’s Mom?”  He brushed the boy’s bangs out of his eyes.

“She went back to fight the bad men.”

“You two stay here, keep the speeder running. Take my com, I’ll be in touch when it’s safe.”

Before Doc could respond, Jonas ducked out from behind the building and skulked around the corner and made his way down the ramp.  The smell of spent blaster cartridges and burned flesh hung in the air as he half-crouched, half-ran toward the encampment. 

Blaster burns marred the makeshift shelters and several dead Justicars led into the heart of the camp like giant bread crumbs. Jonas eyed the corpses as he passed, noting the lightsaber burns and cauterized limbs scattered around.

Several civilian bodies lay strewn about further in and he crouched under the fallen canopy toward the shipping containers. A bright blue light burned through the darkness, accompanied by the warning growl of a lightsaber.

“Stop right there!” The female voice bit out.

“Kira? It’s me…Jonas Balkar.”

“Jonas?”  The lightsaber hissed as she retracted it.  “What are you doing here?”

“I came with Doc. He’s with your son in the alley.  Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. But these people aren’t.” She threw a glance over her shoulder and several men, women, and children gradually emerged from their hiding places.  “We lost so many. I don’t even know why the Justicars would turn on us like this?”

“I dunno.  But you can’t stay here.  When the others don’t check in, they’re going to send back up.”

“I know. But where the hell are we supposed to go? This is our home.”

“You and Doc—you two need to have a chat. Whatever you decide—I’ll do what I can to help you, but I hope you’ll consider my offer.  But first, call him at this frequency and let him know you’re okay.”

Kira nodded and keyed the numbers into her com unit.  She moved away from the questioning masses behind her and blew out a deep breath when Doc’s image appeared.

Jonas moved out of earshot and surveyed the ruined camp. There would be no coming back from this—the Justicars were nothing if not thorough. He leaned heavily on the platform railing and watched the taxis speed by. His knuckles turned white and he shook his head. _That bastard_ , he thought.

He turned back toward the camp, but as he came upon one of the Justicar corpses, he knelt to inspect the body.  “I’ll be damned,” he muttered. “I _knew_ it.”

Kira started toward him, meeting him halfway.  “Doc and I talked.”

“Yeah? So what did you decide?”

She glanced around and shook her head. “There’s nothing left for us here. We’re coming with you—on one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Our friends—they’re coming too.”

“I figured as much. Round ‘em up, tell them to grab whatever they can carry and go to docking bay twenty-seven Besh—in pairs—or small groups, so they don’t draw attention. My ship is the only one in there.  Load up and head for Odessen. The coordinates are in the nava-computer.” He reached into his inside breast pocket and passed her a card. “That’s the security code to my ship and the service droid.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be along. There’s something I gotta do first, but I’ll be right behind you, I promise.”

“Thanks, Jonas. No matter what Doc said—it’s good to see you again.”

“Yeah—you too.”

*

After the _Star’s End Cantina_ closed, Jonas made his way inside through the ventilation shaft as he had before, the first time he’d broken into the bar a couple of weeks ago.

Darmas Pollaran’s lip edged up at the corner.  Even without Force gifts, somehow he always knew when he wasn’t alone.

“I’ve been expecting you.”  He took a swig of his drink and sprawled languidly across his booth, his fingertips tapping against his duffel. “You know, you could’ve knocked, m’boy. No need for all this cloak and dagger business.”

“I told you not to interfere. But no, you just _had_ to stick your nose in, didn’t you,” Jonas snarled. 

“You’re welcome.  My sources tell me, mission accomplished.  You got what you needed.”

“People are dead because of you.”

Darmas gazed down into his drink and twisted his glass.  “So—how’d you know it was me?”

“Couple o’reasons. The timing for one—and then there was the matter of your fake Justicars.”

“Took a closer look did you?”

Jonas crossed his arms. “Yeah, I did.”

“Good help is hard to find these days.”

“They’re all dead y’know.”

“So, I saw.  Hazard of the job.”

“You were there?”

“Of course not, m’boy. Sometimes I wonder how the hell you managed to graduate. I sliced the security cameras—enjoyed quite the show—and then conveniently made it all go away. You should thank me.”

“I told you, I’d do it my way.” Jonas shook his head. “You disgust me. You should’ve stayed out of it!”

“I won’t apologize. I have my reasons for doing what I did.”

“Spare me the whole, ‘I’m getting on in years and wanna patch things up with my kid’ routine. I _know_ better.”  Jonas frowned.  “What’s with the bag, you goin’ somewhere?”

“That remains to be seen.”

“What do you want?”

“I think it’s high time I got off this rock. It’s been practically a life sentence.  But now that Marr’s dead, there’s no one to object.”

“You’re not coming with me.”

“I have a little something to show you.  I think once you see this, you might think better of your old man.”

“I doubt that.”

“Take a look at this.”  Darmas turned his datapad around and pushed it across the table. “Go on.”

Jonas rolled his eyes and sighed.  “Fine…what am I looking—”

“You were there earlier. I told you I sliced the security cams in the area and caught this.  I thought it might be of interest to you.”

Jonas’s jaw dropped.  “Fark me. It can’t be. You pulled this _today_?”

“Would I lie to you, m’boy? That was right after you and the good doctor left.”

He shook his head incredulously. “Enhance image…freeze it.  How the hell can this be? Lana killed him—she cut his damn head off.”

“Sometimes…that’s not enough, m’boy.”

“What do _you_ know about this?”

“Everything.”

Jonas narrowed his eyes. “How?”

“Because—I thought of it.”

“You realize what you just admitted to me.”

“Surely you didn’t think the Star Cabal would restrict themselves to only _one_ agent, did you?” 

Jonas ran his hand over his jaw and scratched at the stubble. “You have _got_ to be kidding me.”

“I take it, that’s enough to earn me a bunk on your ship?”

“If I _had_ a ship—I gave it to Kira to evacuate her people.”

“Then it’s a good thing I still have mine.  Shall we?”  Darmas rose and slung his bag over his shoulder.

“If there’s a hell, I’m in it—and you’re the devil.”

“Atta boy.  Now you’ll see how a real agent works.”

“That’s what worries me,” Jonas grumbled as they left through the back door.

((to be continued…))


	17. Chapter 17

   

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Seventeen**

 

The milky crystals Liatrix found in the cave were still warm to the touch days after she’d found them.  Though they were twins in appearance, each had a unique soul—wholly unspoiled and thrumming with the power of the living Force.

She named the crystals—something she had never done before.  Through them, her children would always be with her and through them, she would gain the power she needed to defeat the Eternal Empire.  Tears welled in her eyes and she hastily tucked the crystals into a square of purple lashaa silk, shutting them away in her desk drawer with the rest of the components needed to construct two new lightsabers.

 _Another day_ , she thought.

She expected Valkorion to appear and scold her for procrastinating, but when he didn’t she found herself strangely at odds.  “Five years and you choose now to leave. _If_ you’ve left,” she muttered. “Now when I talk to myself, I just sound crazy.”

She stood and peered out the window at Odessen’s nightscape. Beyond the silhouette of the jagged spruce trees, where the sky and water met, the current rippled the reflected starlight over the surface and she thought of her father. He was out there somewhere.  With _her_.

Through the lens of building tears, her reflection blurred until she no longer saw herself, but Satele Shan, her beady pale eyes smug with triumph.

 _Damn you_.  Liatrix punched the glass as hard as she could again and again until she couldn’t stand the excruciating pain spreading across her hand and lancing up her wrist.  She drew a staggered breath and stared down at her shattered and rapidly swelling hand.  A bruise formed, darkening her skin in hues of red and pale purple, topped with a black-purple as dark as the sky outside.

She cradled her ruined hand and raced from her quarters. Despite the fog of curious questions and concerns from her people, she continued without saying a word. 

At the infirmary, Liatrix lingered in the doorway.  Inside, Malavai stood leaning over his desk, his arms spread wide, the plans for the new hospital wing unfurled between them.  One careless movement reminded her why she was there. She sucked in a sharp breath through gritted teeth and went in.

“My lord, this is a surprise, I wasn’t expecting—you’re injured. What happened?” he asked, reaching for his scanner. “Sit here please,” he added, indicating the examination table.

“My hand collided with the window in my room—a few times,” she snapped, stepping up to sit on the table.

“That glass has been tempered to withstand heavy artillery.”

“Probably why it didn’t break.”

He scanned her injury and inspected the readings. “Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for your hand. You have several fractures across your fourth and fifth metacarpals.” He glanced at her and averted his eyes, careful to keep his focus on preparing the kolto injection. “Clearly something or someone upset you.”

“Someone did, yes. Tell me, what do you do when someone disappoints you beyond imagining?”

“My lord?” he asked, brows furrowing. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Is your upset to do with my early departure from my promotion ceremony the other night?”

“I told you to call me Liatrix, or Lia— _anything_ but ‘my lord.’”

“Then you _are_ angry with me.”

“No. But while we’re on the subject, I’d swear you’ve been avoiding me. Is there a reason?”

He applied a numbing agent on the injection site. “Apologies, my lord—erm, Liatrix.” He cleared his throat and kept his eyes down as he injected kolto into the fleshy webbing between her thumb and index finger. “This _will_ sting, but you should be fully recovered in a day or two. I’ll bind it to keep it immobile overnight and prescribe something for pain.”  He finished treating her and returned to his desk to prepare the prescription.

Liatrix hopped off the examination table. “Why _did_ you leave the party early? I was hoping we could spend some time together.”

“Yes, about that. Please don’t misunderstand, I’m honoured by the promotion and gratified that those in attendance enjoyed the post-ceremony celebration—especially once I’d retired for the evening, or so I heard—”

“—But…”

“This isn’t easy for me to say, _but_ , I think it would be best if we kept our distance from one another.”

“Why? Have I done something? Whatever it is, we can talk about it.” She rounded the desk when he held up his hand to stop her half way. 

“Please, don’t,” he said.

“What’s wrong?”

He sighed.  “There’s something you need to know. It’s time you were told the truth. Please, sit.”

“I’m not going to like this, am I?” Liatrix lowered herself into the chair, cradling her hand.

“No, I don’t imagine this’ll be easy for you to hear, but in keeping it secret, I’d be doing you a grave disservice.”

“You’re really breaking up with me.”

“Yes, my lord—but not for the reasons you think.  You’ve done nothing wrong. The situation being what it is, I doubt you even could. Take a look at this,” he said, pushing his data pad toward her.

She studied the data and shook her head. “If I’m understanding this properly, a few of these genetic sequences don’t look right—in fact, they’re downright abnormal. Whose are they?”

“They’re yours.”

“Mine?” She looked up flabbergasted. “But how? What’s this mean? I’m not _dying_ am I?”

“Far from it, thankfully. How much do you know about your mother?”

“Very little. Why?”

“The irregular nucleotides were passed down to you from your maternal side. You’ll note the nitrogenous order is unusual and it appears they’ve mutated somehow.  This isn’t my field of expertise, but, it appears your mother was genetically modified for some reason and somehow, she passed several of these traits to you when you were born.”

“What sort of traits?”

“Adaptive pheromones…many near-human species like the Zeltrons and Falleen have them. It appears these traits serve to make you virtually irresistible to many members of the opposite sex. I suspect the effect is initiated through proximity—the more time you spend in someone’s company, the more likely they’re to be affected. Distractingly so, as I’m sure you’ve noticed over the years.”

Liatrix stared straight ahead, dumbstruck. She stood, aimlessly wandering the office without saying a word.

“Clearly, this is a shock,” Malavai reached across his desk to pour water into a tumbler.  He pushed the glass toward her.  “Are you all right?”

She ignored the glass. “So…what you’re telling me, is that,” she said clasping her forehead, “every relationship I’ve had, including ours, wasn’t based on love or friendship, but was nothing more than a chemical response? Is _that_ what you’re telling me?”

“Yes—I mean, no, not exactly. I would imagine _some_ were genuine,” he winced at his own words and poured a glass of water for himself, only to down it quickly and wish it were something stronger.

“How am I supposed to know what’s real?” She shook her head incredulously. “Why would you do all this? Is the idea of being with me so repugnant that you’ll grasp for any reason to avoid it?”

“No—but I would think you’d prefer to know the truth.  If I were to continue to allow us to deepen our relationship, it would be a lie. I would rather not lie to you. You deserve better than a man solely interested in you because he can’t help himself.”  He clasped his hands behind his back. “Before I met you, I had no thought of any woman except my wife.  You’re both very much alike—it was easy to—grow confused. I had to put a stop to it—before we acted _regrettably_.”

“Stop.  I get it,” she pressed the heel of her good hand to her forehead and stood very still. “Is there a way to undo this?”

“I’m afraid not. There’s no way to alter your genetic code without leaving you _damaged_ —it’s a part of who you are.”

“That means I’ll never know if any of it was real. How could I have been so stupid?” She flung the data pad across his desk and watched it skitter across the surface until his files broke its momentum.

“My lord, you couldn’t have known, though I am astonished that it went unnoticed for so long.”

“What the hell do I do now? Become a hermit? I have a job to do. I come in contact with hundreds of men a day. This is… _ridiculous_.”

“As I said, proximity seems to be a requirement, however, there _is_ a vaccine that acts to inhibit the pheromonic effect. According to my research, something similar has been used to free Killick joiners from their captors. I believe it requires regular boosters or its efficacy diminishes over time. It would be prudent for the men to receive such an inoculation.”

“Now you’re making me sound like a disease. I can just imagine how this’ll go, ‘welcome to the Alliance, oh and by the way, you need a shot so you don’t fall in love with me. Seriously?” She moistened her lips and glanced toward the door.  “Do you have any idea how humiliating this is?”

“I know if our situations were reversed, I would be utterly mortified.”

“Mortification doesn’t even _begin_ to cover it. If I’m to maintain authority over the troops, I need to preserve my dignity. Synthesize the vaccine. I don’t care what you tell them, so long as it’s _not_ the truth.”

“I’ve managed a prototype—I’ve used myself as a test subject and while the effect has been countered to a degree, it’s not completely effective. This is _not_ my field.  It would be advisable to recruit someone with a specialty in developmental pharmacology.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s one of Doc’s fields. He said he was top of his class.”

“Then perhaps it would be prudent to wait until Ms. Beniko has located him.”

“She knows you prefer the military over medicine—she thinks keeping you in the infirmary is a waste of your talent, and I agree.”

“I’m a strategist—field medicine was merely a way to distinguish myself and better serve the Empire.”

“You’re the only one I know who can do both. You’re invaluable to the Alliance and to me. One day the Empire will be ours again—we’ll be able to go home.”

“I appreciate that my lord.”

“I mean it, but this whole thing—is bizarre. Why would you even _think_ to look for this? Something must’ve provoked you. Normal people _act_ on feelings—they don’t go looking for reasons not to.”  She eyed him dubiously, refusing to let up until he answered.

“As I said, I don’t wish to lie to you, my lord—it wasn’t something, but rather _someone_ who came to me. In all fairness, I believe it was their intention to protect you—I don’t believe any harm was intended toward _you_.”

“Who was it? Tell me.”

“I was informed of your condition by none other than Agent Shan.”

“Theron…” Her eyes widened as realization set in. “How long has he known?”

“That’s a question you’d have to ask _him_ —though I suspect he’s known for some time.”

“Oh you better believe I’m going to ask him—the nerve of that man!” she grumbled and stalked out of the infirmary.

*

Theron rubbed his eyes to clear away the sandy fatigue building in them.  He forced his focus on the monitor, idly sipping the caf that had gone cold on his desk as he watched the text scroll up.

“Be a spy. It’ll be fun they said,” he muttered through his yawn. Despite his fatigue, he still caught the motion blur reflected in his monitor and swiveled his chair toward the door.

“How dare you,” Liatrix growled before storming inside the monitoring station. “You have no right to meddle in my private life.”

“I see he didn’t waste any time telling you. _Why_ , am I not surprised?” he said, folding his arms, the contempt thick in his voice.

“Unlike _some_ people, Quinn thought I had a right to know the truth.”  If she arched her eyebrow any more sharply, she might’ve taken out his eye with it.

“So now you know,” he grunted.

“The question is, how long did _you_ know and why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’d think the answer to that is pretty obvious.  I figured it would undermine your relationships. You already had severe trust issues—I didn’t want to add to that.  Can you blame me?”

“How long have you known?” she asked, putting emphasis on every single word.

He sighed and ran his hand over his jaw. “Remember when you almost died on Belsavis?”

“How could I forget?”

“The dart I used on you during the arrest was a paralytic agent. Normally, it knocks people out for about three hours—it’s harmless. Your reaction told me there was something really wrong—that’s when I found out my darts had been tampered with.  They were laced with a substance that’s lethal to people like you.”

“People like me…”

“Yeah, people with adaptive pheromones.  Long story short, I investigated, found out your mother was a genetically enhanced pleasure slave.  Zane had it out for your family for a long time and that included you.”

“Wait, what?” Dismayed, she stared at him, mouth agape.  “My mother was a pleasure slave? Where did you hear that?”

“You didn’t _know_ ,” he said, hanging his head. His tone softened, “Before you were born, that’s what she did—according to the SIS.”

“My father said she was the lady of House Teraan—they met on Alderaan and loved each other almost at first sight.”

“Hey, who am I to argue with what your father said. That’s not what’s important anyway.”

“No—what’s important is that I’ll never know what’s real, nor will the person I’m with.”

“That’s exactly what worried me.  No one deserves to go through life wondering if someone really loves them.”

“You knew _all_ this time—but only now decide to tell Quinn? Why tell him and not me?”

Theron stood and took a few steps toward her. “You’re right. I should’ve come to you sooner, but no time ever felt like the right time.”

“You still didn’t answer my question.  Why now, Theron?”

He heaved a deep sigh and nodded.  “A’right.  I saw how he looked at you and I didn’t like it. I knew there was the chance that he was affected and I didn’t want to see you get hurt.”

“How could you know for sure what he felt wasn’t real?”

“I didn’t.  I took a chance.  I figured if I told him about it, he’d investigate and being the overachiever he is, he’d find a way to counter it—and hopefully, back off before hurting you.”

“Oh, he backed off all right and it hurts, but at least he was acting according to his conscience. What hurts me _more_ is that you’d go behind my back. That you’d keep secrets from me. After all, we’ve been through, this is what it comes down to.  I see now what we had was never real. You were affected by these stupid pheromones just like everyone else.”

“That’s not true.”

“Hmph. How would you know?”  She held herself and looked away.

He moved in closer and gently turned her to face him. “I know because I’ve loved you practically since we met. I didn’t believe anything like that was possible and then I learned the truth about you. I had to be sure what I felt was real. I wanted to go in with my eyes open, so when the opportunity presented itself, I had a vaccine made.”

“Great—you wanna call them up and see if they take bulk orders? ‘Cause I can’t risk the troops becoming affected. If we’re going to beat Arcann, everyone has to stay sharp.”

“I believe Lana’s already working on that—she’s sent out feelers to find Doc. He was the one who synthesized it on my request.”

“I should’ve guessed. So who else knows?” she snapped.

“Uh, yeah. Scourge, Jonas—I think Doc was planning on giving your entire crew a shot.”

“Wait a minute—was this when we were given that ridiculous shot for, what was it? It was something stupid,” she said, snapping her fingers, “the Rodian Creeping Mudfever?”

“Maybe? It was just before you confronted Arkous and Darok on Rakata Prime.”

Liatrix nodded. “Sounds about right—just after that clone died.”

“Yeah. Seems like a million years ago.”

“Must’ve been nice going into a relationship with your eyes open.  Too bad I never got the chance. Makes me wonder if we ever knew each other at all. I guess it doesn’t matter that you had the vaccine—with that many secrets, I doubt you ever loved me.”

“For what it’s worth, I never stopped.”

“It’s been a long, tiring day. I’m going back to my quarters,” she said, turning away.

“Wait—”

She stopped and glanced back at him over her shoulder.

“You never said how you hurt your hand.  Are you okay?”

Her lower lip trembled and the unwelcome tears coated her eyes with a glossy sheen.

“You’re _not_ okay,” he murmured and dashed for her, gently folding her against him. She didn’t fight his embrace, but she didn’t she return it either.  She shook in his arms and sobbed into the crook of his shoulder.

 He held her close for a long time, before whispering, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Her lips twisted miserably and she nodded.

“A’right. C’mon, we’ll sit down right here,” he said, urging her toward the chesterfield against the monitoring station’s far wall.

She dragged the tears from her cheeks and dabbed at her eyes with her fingers. “I’m not being fair. I’ve kept things from you too.”

“Like what?”

“I never told you what happened after my confrontation in the woods with Valkorion.”

“Why not?”

“Same reasons you kept things from me. It hurts like hell and I didn’t want to do that to you.”

“Okay. Y’know we gotta stop doing that,” he said, managing to crack a smile. “The truth from now on? No matter what?”

She nodded and glanced over at him. “When I regained consciousness—I saw your mother and we spoke.”

“You saw Satele? What’d she say?”

“Just that she’s been shacked up here on Odessen all this time with _my_ father.”

“What?”

“I saw them both. At first, I thought I was hallucinating, I didn’t want to believe it, but it was really them. My father told me something, only he and I would know.”

“Do you think it might’ve been a trick? Valkorion isn’t above head games.”

“No.  I wondered that myself, at first, but it was them.  I mourned him _every_ day I was trapped in carbonite. I called out to him…begged him to answer me and nothing.  And why? Because he was with _her_.”

“You were awake?”

“Not awake, exactly—it was more like a dream, but I was aware of things that were really happening and I felt everything.  It’s not the peaceful, mindless sleep everyone thinks. Or maybe Valkorion made it that way.”

“I can’t blame you for being upset, but maybe Valkorion had a way of keeping your father out? No one knows what all he can do.  He might’ve been blocking your father from answering you.”

“I don’t know. It didn’t sound that way to me. He called _her_ his equal. Can you imagine?”

Theron ran his hand over his face, feeling the bite of stubble against his palm. “Did they say what they wanted?”

“They want to stop the war and to do that, they said, I have to rule the Eternal Empire.”

“Well, they’re not wrong. Did you tell them, we’ve been working toward that?”

She shook her head.  “No.  I was livid.  She’s there, beside him, looking all smug. Acting like she’s better than she was, even said as much to me. I wanted to punch her.”

“Something tells me, that’s what you were thinking about earlier,” he said, glancing down at her broken hand.

“You know me so well,” she snorted. “I told them both to go to hell and rule Zakuul themselves—that I was done, and then I left.  They’re still out there somewhere—I can feel them.”

“Did they say anything else?”

“They wanted to prepare me for the battle ahead.  They wanted to complete my training.  Which is ridiculous.  What could either of them teach me?  I was both Jedi and Sith.”

“Maybe you should hear them out. Maybe they’ve learned something new—being a part of the Force and all.”

“I want nothing to do with them. He wanted to be with her, not me.  I don’t belong there. I’d just be interfering.”

“Lia…I think that’s just anger talking.  We both know how you feel about Satele.  It might’ve been different if it was just you and your father. Satele being there, felt like an intrusion.  She should’ve let him talk to you alone.”

“She’s always stuck her nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Maybe you should try reaching out to him.”

“I don’t know.”

“I think we both know that if it was anyone else in your shoes, you’d tell them to suck it up. Put aside your personal issues and do what you have to for the alliance.”

“Did you just call me self-indulgent?”

He smiled. “Hey, if the lightsaber fits…”

“You’re probably right. I just need some time.”

He sighed and nodded.

“What?”

“Oh…nothing,” his gaze dropped to his hands. “I envy you, in a way—that you could see them.  I wish I could—but as you know, I have no Force ability.”

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t think of that.”

“Don’t give it another thought.  I would’ve just liked to see Satele one more time.”

“You know…that reminds me. Whatever happened to your Peko-Peko chick?”

Theron lifted his head, his eyes wide.  “Th-that was you?” he stammered.  “Trixie?”

“That’s what you’d call me.”

“Why didn’t you say so before?”

“Because I only remembered a short while ago—I dreamt about it. I just can’t remember what I called you.”

Theron chuckled. “You called me Tron.”

She snorted.  “I remember now.”

“As for our feathered friend, Master Zho took care of him after I left to train with the SIS. Last I heard, he and Master Quilb, were hoping to find him a mate.”

“Did they ever?”

“I don’t think he ever got over his first love,” he quipped.

“Aww, poor thing.”

“But if they find their way back together, I hear they mate for life.”

Liatrix smiled and rose. “I hope they do,” she said, heading for the doorway. “Good night, _Tron_.”

“Don’t let the buzz bugs bite,” he yawned, sprawling over the chesterfield.

 

((to be continued…))


	18. Chapter 18

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Eighteen**

 

Three weeks on Nathema passed like three years. Scourge’s pulse pounded inside his ears alternating between sloshy leaden beats to the tinny kind that tempted him to cleave open his own skull just to make it stop.

A deep growl vibrated in his belly. He tugged the last crumbly strip of nerf jerky he’d been saving from its foil wrapper and stuffed the salty meat into his mouth.  After chewing for what felt like decades, he choked the wad down and coughed as it scratched its way down his gullet.

He dropped his hydrospanner onto the parched soil and slumped next to the abandoned _Sky Princess II_.  The crust that had formed around his mouth cracked as he rang the last drops of moisture from the bantha hide waterskin he’d found aboard the pirate’s ship.

 _I may as well have eaten the canteen_ , he thought, wiping away the residue on his lips with the back of his hand. He could’ve eaten an entire nerf and emptied a small lake, but there was a decided absence of both on the world. The ship’s hull served as a pillow and he rested while taking stock of his accomplishments.

After thoroughly scrubbing the engines, he installed a set of makeshift filters and patched the hull. He’d drained the fuel injectors and cleared out the dust inside. Work that should’ve taken hours, had taken days.  His head lolled forward involuntarily and jerked back just as quickly as he fought to stay awake. Exhaustion was a persistent enemy and the moment he agreed to shut his eyes, he was beaten.

Somewhere beyond sleep came a low buzzing sound as persistent as a blood-sucking insect. He tried swatting at it without success and the buzz grew into a voice, loud enough to drown out the sound of his rushing pulse. He muttered something unintelligible and his body jerked in response.

Startled by his own noises, he woke and squinted through the swirling dust. Before his senses had fully gathered he thought himself back on Dromund Fels and his first instinct was to find Toska. His brows met, forming a deep chasm between them and then he remembered. He was no longer on Dromund Fels, Tosca was dead and his companions had left him behind. 

No doubt they believed he’d been crushed under the weight of the collapsed temple—and briefly, he had been.  A sizeable chunk of stone had knocked him unconscious as he fled and when he woke, a fine sift of dust and pebbles covered him on the opposite side of the massive cave in.  The scab where the rock had connected with his head itched and he cursed to himself, wanting nothing more than to rip it off.

The voice haunting his dreams gathered into a command. _‘Come,’_ it said _._

His eyes snapped open as if someone had suddenly branded him with a hot poker and he sprang to his feet.

 _‘Come to me,’_ the voice intoned once more. It deepened into a male voice, but it was not one that Scourge recognized.  He sensed no deception in it—but in this place, he could not rely on his perceptions.

He drew his lightsaber and instinct steered him toward a winding path along the cliff side. The path was wide enough for one and high enough to give Scourge pause when he glanced to his right at the canyon below.

 _‘Yes, yes, walk this way…’_ the voice urged.

Pebbles crunched under Scourge’s boots as he rounded the last turn of the path and a monumental obsidian building came into view. Six obelisks flanked the bridge leading to the entrance, but the voice calling to him was not inside the structure, but rather beneath it.

Scourge twisted the ring adorning his left facial tendril. Who did this mysterious voice belong to? A ghost?

 _Perhaps_ , he thought, in answer to his unspoken questions.

Long ago he’d heard rumors of a secret sanitarium built to imprison the worst of the Emperor’s enemies. For a time he believed it was a cage built specifically for Revan—and later, for Liatrix, but the facility was more than a cage—it was also where the Emperor kept his most powerful and valuable possessions locked away inside a subterranean vault. Scourge retracted his weapon and holstered it.

The ghostly voice waned and fell quiet for a time, but its silent urging continued in the form of barbs trapped under Scourge’s skin.  He avoided the main entrance and climbed down the ravine with relative ease—having perfected his skill during his time on Dromund Fels.

He felt his way along the bottom shelf of the rock face until he discovered an aperture large enough for him to crawl into.  A rough stone tunnel no more than ten meters in length lay ahead and was marked by a dim red light at the end of it.

 _‘Find me,’_ the voice whispered, as the barbs prodded Scourge in the direction he needed to follow.

Scourge shuffled along on his hands and knees.  The tunnel was not man-made, but most likely the result of one of Nathema’s many ground quakes. 

The tunnel culminated inside one of the many vaults the Emperor kept.  He leapt from the opening and landed in a crouch.  He rolled to take cover behind one of the larger statues inside and peered around it until he was satisfied he was alone.

At the center of the vault, a black and red holocron pulsed as it hovered over its elaborately fashioned base.  The craftsmanship was at once delicate but sturdy, the inscriptions carved in the ancient Sith language from millennia ago. 

Scourge lifted the holocron from its resting place, his touch activating an image of the being dwelling within the construct.  The ghost of a statuesque pure-blooded Sith appeared. Bathed in a scarlet aura, his robes clung to his body in an elegant and ancient style, but the way he wore his hair, was a style still preferred by many male Sith.

 _‘You found me, at last,’_ the pureblood greeted, his holocron pulsing with each syllable spoken.

“Who are you and what do you want?”

_‘I am Lord Dramath. Millennia ago, I ruled this once-vibrant world, when it was known as Medriaas.’_

“Your name—is familiar,” Scourge began, his eyes narrowing. “I read about your rule in Darth Nyriss’s library long ago,” he said more to himself than to the ghost. “Your son—murdered you, when he was but a boy.”

_‘Tenebrae, yes.  He was the least of my children—one of many I sired.  His mother was no more than a peasant.’_

“Clearly you weren’t selective,” Scourge muttered. 

_‘He murdered me and trapped my essence in this prison—and turned Medriaas into this shell to make himself immortal.’_

“He performed a similar ritual on Ziost. I knew Tenebrae, as Vitiate, my Lord Emperor—and lately, he’s taken to calling himself Valkorion. There was talk of his assassination—but I would have sensed his passing.”

_‘My low-born son went by many names—Tenebrae, Vitiate, Emperor of the Sith—Valkorion—he wore many husks—his immortality demands it. He cannot be destroyed.’_

“What do you want? Why summon me here?”  Scourge barked and folded his arms.

_‘For a thousand years, he has tortured and tormented me, kept me imprisoned—salvation is at hand. Grant me my release into oblivion.’_

“What do I get out of this generosity of spirit?”

_‘I can provide you with the means to defeat Tenebrae. I know his weakness.’_

“You said he can’t be destroyed.”

_‘It is true—immortals cannot be destroyed—but they can be imprisoned, just as I was. Release me and the means to bind him is yours.’_

“What’s to prevent me from taking you with me? I could imprison you both.”

_‘The holocron is designed to hold only one spirit. To capture him, you must first free me.  Do we have an understanding?’_

Scourge weighed the spirit’s words and turned the device over in his hands.  “Even weakened and in hiding—so long as the Emperor exists, he is a danger to the entire galaxy.  I agree to your terms, Dramath.”

_‘Strike at him when he is vulnerable—then and only then can you imprison him.’_

Scourge nodded and depressed the ancient Sith engraving on the side of the cube.  A rush of scarlet light beamed from the device, engulfing Dramath’s ghost.

 _‘And so it ends, at last,’_ Dramath said with a quiet dignity.  His spirit vanished into nothingness, leaving Scourge alone inside the darkened vault. 

The holocron dimmed and reset itself.  Scourge tucked the device inside his robes and with a cat-like grace, launched himself into the aperture to escape the vault and the planet.

 

*

 

Nox stared at the burnished bronzium urn until a shot glass filled with Dodbri whiskey landed in front of her.

Andronikos poured a shot for himself and mounted the stool beside hers. “Drink up.”

“That’s a far cry from how you asked me out for a drink the first time, do you remember?”

“’Course I do. Figured there might be some fancy protocol to it back then,” he admitted, his raspy chuckle hanging between them. “Not like I was in the habit of asking Sith lords out for drinks ‘til you came along.”

Nox lifted her shot and held it aloft.  “To simpler times…”

“I’ll drink to that,” he muttered and clinked his glass against hers.  They threw back the contents in unison and slammed the glasses against the ship’s bar.

“Dodbri?” she hissed and made a face.  “Haven’t touched that swill since my dancing days.”

“Hey, it’s cheap and it gets the job done.”

“Can’t argue that,” she said, staring at the urn through the thick murky glass. “It was good of the Captain to drop us off here.”

Beyond the viewport, a golden world with a solitary ocean rotated before them.  A wrecked starship known simply as ‘Farpoint’ functioned as the world’s capital.

“Yeah, you don’t get any more backwater than Fhost. Hmph, it makes Rishi look downright civilized—but at least there’s no battle station watchin’ our every move—and now we got a ship—we can go anywhere.  I’d say that counts for sumthin.’”

“I appreciate it—I couldn’t bring myself to go home—to that empty apartment—not yet,” she whispered.

“Doesn’t have to be that way.”

She reached over and clasped his hand. “What would I do without you?”

“Probably the monster…”

Nox smirked but her focus re-settled on the urn again.  “To think a man’s life—even a man like my beloved Veles can be reduced to _this_ at the end.”

Andronikos refilled their glasses and they threw back another round of the cheap whiskey. “Figured you’d want a crack at doing some of that Sith mumbo-jumbo of yours, but there wasn’t anything we could do to get a pulse. Hmph, had that Wookiee practically drown him in kolto.”

Nox smacked her lips and tapped the base of her glass against the bar for a refill. “I know and I can’t tell you what that meant to me.  I know you didn’t like him.”

“Only one reason for that, Sith. He wasn’t bad as your kind go…”

“He’d say the same about you, y’know.” She downed the drink in a gulp. “Do you suppose that’s how _we’ll_ end up—as dust trapped in a little box?”

“What difference does it make? When yer done, yer done—and _he’s_ done. There’s no comin’ back from it.”

“It hardly seems fair—he was so full of life—he had enough to spare for all of us.  I always thought he’d live forever. All that’s left of him is in here,” she said, tapping the urn, “and I _still_ can’t believe it.”

“At least you’re not getting all mopey about it.”

“It’s not what he would’ve wanted.”

“I’ve heard plenty ‘o stories of your kind lookin’ to cheat death.”

“And they’re probably all true.  Even my former master tried—I told you about that, didn’t I?”

“Hmph, yeah, I remember that.  Crazy old witch was lookin’ to trade up but got stuck in the monster instead. Served ‘em both right. Brought a smile to my face for days.”

Her gaze shifted and the edge of her lip curled up fiendishly.

“I _know_ that look. What the hell is going through that crazy head of yours?”

She turned to face him fully. “Zash tried to take over my body…and would have if Khem hadn’t interfered. If _I_ knew that ritual—”

“—you figure you could transplant Vowrawn into another body. Well, I ain’t volunteerin’ so get that out of your pretty little skull. Besides, it wouldn’t work.”

“Why not? I know it would be optimal if Veles was alive—but remember, I’m a Forcewalker. I’d find his ghost in no time.  It’s only a matter of finding an acceptable vessel—a young, virile, preferably pure-blooded Force user...”

“That’s a pretty tall order and you’re forgetting one thing—you trapped the crazy old bat and shot her out the airlock. I don’t reckon she’d take too kindly to that.”

“You could be right—she’s been stewing about it for almost a decade.”

“If you’re suggestin’ we go lookin’ for that trap—I’d say you’re one spark plug short of an engine. There’s no way she’d help you—if anything she’d be lookin’ to get even.”

“Letting her out would be a bad idea—unless I could promise her a life for a life…”

“I _know_ I don’t like the sound of that. You’d have to find two bodies instead of just one.”

“It wouldn’t be so difficult—I’d only need my former apprentice.”

“I’m pretty sure that would go against her teachings,” Andronikos deadpanned.

Nox choked on her drink and giggled. “I’m sure it would, but if I never heard that insipid excuse again, it would be too soon.”

“What if Zash double crosses you once you’ve given her a body?”

“She’d be mortal,” Nox whispered, her lips curling up at the corners like horns. “Besides, what’s life without a little risk?”

“You’re crazy, Sith. You’ve got the old man’s fortune—and you’re Empress. Why don’t we get away for a while? Haven’t you ever thought about jumping into a ship and just…going?”

“Of course I have, but I need to do this. He would do the same for me and I would do the same for you, not to mention it’s my life’s ambition to rule. I can’t just abandon the Empire.”

Andronikos refilled their glasses. “You sure ‘bout that? Not so long ago, you were wishin’ to be a pirate, like me.”

“The life has its charm,” she oozed, “I’ll give you that.  But as Empress, _I’m_ the ultimate authority. That means no one can touch us. We both get what we want—freedom.”

They clinked glasses again and threw back the burning liquid.  “Not exactly true, sweetheart.  You seem to have forgotten about the Eternal Empire.”

“Believe me, I haven’t forgotten about them—or Jadus.”

Andronikos shook his head.  “One thing’s for sure, life with you is never dull.”

“And I intend to keep it that way.”

“Remember how we used to fly out into the middle of nowhere and cut the engines and just drift for hours?”

“How could I forget?  Shall we?”  Nox slid off her stool and snatched up the bottle by its neck.

“Not so fast, Sith,” Andronikos grunted and reeled her in tight against his body.

“Looks like you have something in mind,” she crooned impishly.

“What’s that game you liked to play?”

Nox laughed, “You mean, ‘the overseer and the naughty acolyte?”

“That’s the one— now dance for me, _slave_.”

“Why don’t you try and _make_ me,” she hissed breaking free, “ _overseer_.”  She ran giggling toward the bridge and the pirate followed.

 

((to be continued…))


	19. Chapter 19

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Nineteen**

 

 

Liatrix stared out the viewport of her ready room, her gaze as far away as the horizon, her mind further still. Instead of a forest, there was hatred. Instead of a river, there was anguish and instead of people championing her cause, there was distrust. A sea of people surrounded her, but in that sea, not a single soul existed that she could trust with _everything_. 

Doling out fragments of truth was safer. The likelihood of anyone puzzling the pieces together to form a complete picture was diminished this way.  From random pieces, it was unlikely anyone would know her mind.

She was their symbol; they looked to her for strength and resolve and assurance that what they fought and bled for was just—but symbols were no more than illusions and behind the illusion lay the truth—that the fragments were held together only by sheer force of will and their belief in her.

Who would follow a broken commander?  No one—and so the cracks would remain secret.

Her attention shifted toward the two ships that had arrived earlier.  She held herself and Odessen gave way to the memory of a day on Dromund Fels—when she’d killed off part of her past and abandoned the rest—but not everything stays gone.

Lana Beniko stood in the doorway of the ready room. Liatrix sensed the woman’s urgency but stubbornly kept her back to the door, her gaze locked on the refugees emerging from the first craft.

“Commander,” Lana began.  “I thought you should know Dr. Kimble and your former apprentice have arrived.”

“I know. I felt it.”  Liatrix’s gaze shifted to the two men disembarking from the second vessel—Jonas and another man— equal in height and build and both possessed of the same swagger that seemed to be standard issue for any secret agent.

Lana moved closer to stand before the glossy ebony island separating them. “I thought perhaps you’d wish to receive them personally.” 

Liatrix swiveled her chair to face Lana but didn’t look up to meet her eyes.  “I don’t.” She tented her fingertips and kept her attention fixed on the data stream scrolling before her as if its contents were the most fascinating in the galaxy.

Lana pursed her lips and clasped her hands behind her back.  “There’s more—you ought to know—Jonas informed me Dr. Kimble and Kira are married and they have a young son.”

“I know that too,” she murmured.

“You were close to them once—you’ll need to face them eventually.”

“ _Once_ …” Liatrix looked up, finally meeting Lana’s gaze. “I’m sure they remember how we parted ways as well as I do.”

“I understand how this might be difficult for you, but that was a long time ago. They’re in the cantina catching up with Tee-Seven as we speak.”

“What would you have me say? What _can_ I say? Sorry I knocked you out and left you behind to become Sith?”

“You had your reasons for doing so, I’m sure,” Lana said quickly, turning toward the doorway at the newly arrived presence.

“Or _I_ could say, ‘Hey gorgeous, y’miss me?” Doc crooned as he strolled in. He hadn’t changed much over the last five years, save for a few silvery wisps at his temples. The tailored suit he wore whispered of achievement and the monetary recognition he’d once craved. He snapped his fingers “Hey, I remember you now, from Rishi and Yavin. Lana, right? I’ll tell yah, Balkar could do a lot worse.”

“It appears that’s my cue to take my leave,” Lana said, hurrying to the doorway, “I trust I’ll see you later at the Life Day celebration, Commander? Doctor?”

“Oh count me in, I’ll be there with _bells_ on,” Doc bubbled. “Literally.”

Liatrix canted her head dismissively but implied no promise to attend.

“And just Doc is fine,” he called after Lana as she made her hasty exit. He turned back to Liatrix and whistled low. “Wow. You look great—you haven’t changed a bit—guess that whole carbon freezing thing has _some_ perks.”

“If you count almost dying as a perk. You haven’t changed either. Still the same, ol’ Doc, I see.”

“Brrrr.  I’ve had warmer greetings from a naked tauntaun.”

“Naked taunt—you know what? I don’t want to know.”

“Don’t I even get a hug?”  Doc opened his arms and waggled his left eyebrow suggestively.

Liatrix held up her hands to rebuff him. “You might want to keep your distance—just in case the vaccine has worn off.”

Doc dropped his arms and sulked.  “So you know about that huh? Guess one of the spy guys spilled the beans?”

“It doesn’t matter who told me.  What matters is _you_ didn’t.”

“Hey, don’t blame me—blame what’s-his-face…Shan. He thought it was best you didn’t know.”

“Since when did Theron start doing your thinking for you? _You_ should’ve told me. Do you have any idea how humiliated I felt when I found out? Or was that your way of getting back at me for—”

“—No,” he interrupted. “Believe it or not _some_ of us don’t hold grudges.” He pinched his mustache over the bow of his upper lip. “Look, the timing never seemed right, then all hell broke loose…besides, I never thought it’d be an issue. Not with big, red and surly hanging around,” he said, rubbing at the nape of his neck.

“If I’d known sooner, we might’ve been spared that mess we called a marriage.”

“Hey, it wasn’t _all_ bad…and even if you don’t believe it, what we had was real.”

“You’re right, I don’t believe it, but that’s beside the point. General Quinn is working on a vaccine, but it’s not his field of expertise—I would appreciate if you gave him a hand and see to it everyone gets inoculated.”

“Aye, aye,” Doc saluted her mockingly. “Quinn seems like your typical stick-up-the-butt Imp, but I’ve worked with worse.”

“He’s a professional.”  She stood and set her hands on her hips. “This isn’t how I want things to be between us.”

“Me either.  I was wrong—you _have_ changed. You’ve gotten colder.”

“I am what I need to be. I’d rather we start over. First off, I guess congratulations are in order. I’m happy for you and Kira—and I was told you have a little boy?”

“Thanks, and yeah, he’s a great kid. Moving on took time, but we managed.  Uh…hey, Balkar told us about everything that happened and for what it’s worth—I’m sorry.”

“Thanks, that means a lot. I lost everyone—”

“Not everyone—”

The sound of small feet running up the hall thundered closer until a small dark-haired boy hung in the doorway.  “Daddy?”

“Hey buddy,” Doc opened his arms and caught his son in a hug.  “Come and meet Daddy’s friend—this here’s Commander Liatrix…she’s in charge here.”

The boy eyed her warily but after Doc released him, he moved closer to her, curiously sizing her up.

She rounded her desk and knelt down to his level.  “And what’s your name?”

“Kiran Kimble.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Kiran Kimble,” her tone serious, but laced with amusement. She offered her hand and he gave it a shake.

“Where’s your lightsaber? Mom says you’re a Jedi Master. Can I see it?”

“I _was_ a Jedi. As for my lightsabers, I need to make new ones, so I don’t have one right now.” 

“Can I watch?”

Liatrix cocked her head.  “Watch?”

“When you make ‘em.  Can I watch?”

“It’s usually something a Force user does alone—but if you can sit really still and quiet, you can watch.”  Liatrix smiled.

“Yippee!”

She laughed and felt her cheeks grow warm. “Are you excited about Life Day?”

Kiran nodded and his eyes grew wide.

“How would you like a job?”

“A job? A real one?” he squeaked. “Do I get paid?”

“I can tell he was raised around Hutts,” Liatrix teased, glancing briefly at Doc who ran his hand through his hair with a sheepish pride.

“What do I do?” Kiran asked.

“Well, it’s a very important post—that comes with an honorary rank—Life Day Lieutenant. You’d be responsible for making decorations for the trees in the cantina and it comes with a stipend.” She rose and rummaged through her desk drawer until she found the blue pin box she was looking for. “And I think you might be the man for the job—if it’s okay with your father.”

“Daddy, can I? Please, can I?” Kiran bounced, clapping his hands.

“Sure why not, sport. Do a good job, make me and your mom proud—and the Commander, of course.”

 Liatrix removed the pin from the box and fastened it to the boy’s collar. “I hereby grant you the rank of Life Day Lieutenant. Ask ID-V8 for the materials you need. He’s the golden droid in the cantina. He knows where everything is.”

“Wow, thanks! But what’s a…a… _sty-pent_?”  He fussed with his collar, tugging it out from his neck to get a better look at the shiny red and gold pin.

“A _stipend_ is a payment with my thanks—credits for you to use however you want.”

Kiran spun around, still tugging his collar out. “Daddy look! I’m a Life Day Lootenant! See?”

“That’s m’boy.  Go show mom, then get to work, now scoot,” he said, roughing the boy’s hair.

“I’m gonna be the best lootenant ever!” Kiran sing-songed out the door.

Liatrix turned back to the window and watched Doc’s reflection in it.

“Thanks for humoring him. You just made his century.”

“It was nothing,” she said softly. She straightened and hardened her voice. “I figured it would keep him busy and out of the way.”

“Yeah, well, whatever the reason, Trix, I appreciate it.”

“You’re a good father, I can tell. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do. Tee-seven can show you to your quarters.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure,” Doc nodded and frowned when she wouldn’t turn around. “See you at the party.” When she didn’t answer, he sauntered out.

After she was sure he was gone, she dabbed the corners of her eyes and flicked the wetness on the tips of her fingers away. She clasped her forehead, her hand a visor against the irritating daylight.

She heaved a deep sigh and dropped her hand to squint out the window, knowing that somewhere out there, her own father lingered and with him the enemy.

_Are you going to just stand around and let her win?_

“No, I’m not,” she muttered and swung her cloak over her shoulders.

 

Ten minutes later, she zoomed through the forests of Odessen. Her cloak fluttered behind her as she ducked under fallen logs and branches and zig-zagged between the evergreens.

The wind whipped through her hair. She relished the breakneck speed she coaxed out of the custom Aratech and the reckless abandon that came with it.

She veered sharply and swooped over the bank to glide above the rushing river. She eased her feet off the accelerators and came to a stop in the clearing on the opposite side. 

The brazier at the heart of the camp still burned and as she approached it she pulled her goggles up over her forehead.  The heat prickled her skin and she peered into the blaze. The flames formed an approaching figure, his golden lightsaber growling alive at his side.  Arcann glared at her from within the flames and spun his lightsaber in challenge.

 _‘It doesn’t have to be this way. Return to me,’_ Arcann’s image growled in her mind. The flames morphed into another revelation—one of the two of them locked together, not in battle but passion. She recoiled and abandoned the brazier.  Her hand flexed involuntarily, but painlessly, the broken bones fully healed.

“I know you’re here…I can feel you,” she called out.  “Father?”  She sensed the Force gather behind her and she turned to meet it.

“I knew you would return,” Marr’s apparition said softly. “In that, we are the same.”

“Is _she_ here?” Liatrix growled bitterly, her gaze darting about the camp for signs of Satele Shan’s presence.

“No. I thought it best we speak alone.”

“Things might’ve gone differently if she’d stayed away before.”

“You’re consumed by hatred.”

“That surprises you? I hated her before, I hate her more now. I _needed_ you.  I _still_ need you. Why wouldn’t you come to me? I called for you…”

“Though we were divided by space and time, our own limitations and the constructs the Force imposes, I heard you.”

“Then why the hell didn’t you answer me? You left me all alone…with _him_ for years.” Her lower lip quivered and unshed tears blurred her sight.

“Because it was the will of the Force.”

“The will of the Force,” she spat. “None of _this_ —had to be this way.  Why couldn’t you have taken a knee? You’d still be alive, we could’ve defeated Valkorion and his children another day. We wouldn’t have lost everything.”

“Valkorion wanted _you_. The result would’ve been the same regardless of any choice I made. I had foreseen my death—there was nothing to do but accept it and it’s time you did as well. Such is the nature of the Force.”

“How can I? They expect me to lead them to victory,” she threw her arm up, gesturing in the direction of the base. “I don’t think I have it in me, Father.  I’m _not_ you.”

“No—and that is why _you_ must finish what we started. I turned a blind eye to all but duty.  Do not make the mistakes I did.”

“Without you—I feel…alone.  Only _you_ can understand what this is like—you and Valkorion.”

“Isolation is a consequence of command.  I thrived on it, drew strength from it. You must either learn to do the same—or learn to trust—a choice only you alone can make.”

“I’m afraid. Being alone is a burden and it’s crushing me to death.”

“You’re like your mother in that way. She withered in seclusion.  We were such different creatures—opposites in all ways.  What fueled my passion was her poison.”

“Was she really a noble from Alderaan? Or was that just a story to protect me from the truth? It seems people really enjoy lying to protect me.”

“What I told you was the truth. She was a noble—but as a consequence for her involvement with me—she was sold into slavery by your grandfather—and forced to become a courtesan.”

“For Ravage.”

Marr’s apparition nodded.  “Her family paid for their dereliction with their lives—I killed them to avenge her.”

“Did you know she was genetically modified with adaptive pheromones?”

“I did—but it made no difference to me. I loved her before the slavers altered her.”

“I have them too.  I only just found out—it’s probably why you accepted me as easily as you did.”

“No.  I accepted you because you are my daughter.”

“Why does this hurt so much?” She squeezed her eyes shut and wept. “It’s so much—that I feel like I could die from it.” She pulled the tears from her cheeks with the backs of her gloved hands.  “I wish I could touch you—hold you,” she gasped.

“I am not the one to ease your suffering or your burden.”

“I need to know—my children—are they with you? I miss them—I would give anything…”

“No harm will come to them. One day—you will see them again.”

“Do I have much time left before I do? Will I die fighting the Eternal Empire?”

“Time matters not within the Force—but the day you will see them again, is far beyond my sight. I can reveal no more, the Force prevents it.”

Liatrix sniffled and nodded.  “And Scourge?”

“I don’t see him—but the Force is different for all of us. Not all Sith who perish meet the same end. Some pass into the void…others linger.  It is the will of the Force and the tenacity of our purpose that dictates what becomes of us.”

“I think Valkorion is gone for good.  I can’t feel him anymore.  It’s strange—I hate to admit it, but I’ve grown accustomed to his companionship.  I’ve grown reliant on his insight and help. While he was with me, I could cope with this loneliness.”

“Let go—of him, of me, Scourge, your children.  So long as you are burdened you will seek to use him as a crutch. You don’t need him.  You never did.  He’s twisted your mind and made you forget there was a time when you opposed him.”

“He did try to isolate me—whenever I found myself growing close to someone.”

“Yes—because it would weaken his hold on you. So long as you have an anchor in another, he will never fully own you. His goal is to break you—that has always been his intention.”

“I was foolish to let myself rely on him.  He only helped me, because it served him somehow.”

“Consider his nature—he was Vitiate until he was destroyed, then he became Valkorion—and now that Valkorion’s flesh is no more—he requires another vessel—you.”

“The Scions called me the Dragon of Zakuul because they sensed his presence within me—but who am I, if I destroy him and everything he built?”

“Who you’ve always been—yourself.”

“What was it you wanted to tell me before?”

“The Jedi…the Sith…their dogma was incomplete—two halves a whole—and that is why they fail.  There is no light or darkness; there is only the Force. Draw upon its omnitude—why restrict yourself to a portion of its power?”

“You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“Anchor yourself in this world—do not allow Valkorion to sway you.  Find your strength and you _will_ prevail. Go—my time on this plane wanes.”

“When you see my children—make sure they know their mother loves them.”

Marr nodded solemnly and vanished.

Liatrix knelt where the apparition appeared to her.  She pressed her hand to the soil and lingered in silence for what seemed like a long time, before returning to camp.

 

*

 

 

Marr appeared within the Forcetide and stared out at the ocean and the void that greeted the newly dead. He sensed a familiar presence cross over, but the moment wasn’t to last and it was gone before he could grasp it.

Satele approached him and stood at his side.

“I take it you heard everything,” Marr said quietly.

“Yes, I did.”  She strolled closer to the water lapping over the sand and gazed down at the frothy residue. “A storm is coming.”

“Yes,” Marr nodded.  “Much will change.”

“You didn’t tell her about her children—that they live.”

“No. To do so would have thwarted the will of the Force.  She would abandon her destiny to find them—be with them.”

“You’re having second thoughts.”

“She will never forgive this deception, nor the one who manipulated her into believing it.”

“You did the right thing, Marr.  We must always be willing to sacrifice.”

“Not all of us discard our children so easily,” Marr growled and vanished into the sea.

 

*

Darkness had fallen by the time Liatrix returned to the base.  Music pealed from inside the cantina and the flashing coloured lights bled through the windows to light the durasteel plates bridging the various structures together.

The ready room was dark.  After shedding her armor, she washed up, changed into a black jumpsuit and returned to her desk.  From the desk drawer, she plucked a bottle of vintage Darkoma gifted to her by a senator she’d rescued and filled a tumbler halfway.  She was about to recork it and thought better of it, leaving the bottle open and ready before her.

The alcohol was rich and dark and tasted like a blend of ebony chocolate and lipana berries.

A tall silhouette passed by the darkened office and then stopped to take three steps back.  “Lia?” Theron called out tentatively.

“Theron—is there something you need?”  She sat up straighter and tried to return the bottle to her drawer.

“What are you doing here all by yourself in the dark?”

“Thinking.  Why aren’t you at the party?”

“It’s not much of a party—without you.”  He moved to turn on the lights.

“Leave them off.”

“A’right—bit dark in here though.  How about a compromise?”

“What did you have in mind?”

He cracked open a small glowrod and perched it on her desk between them.  A corona of soft amber light swelled from the desk to cast a warming glow over everything it touched.  “Does that work for you?”

“Like a charm. Care to join me?” She held up the faceted bottle of Darkoma and a spare glass.

“Breaking out the good stuff I see. Not quite what I’m used to, but why not?” 

She filled his glass and slid it toward him.  “It was a gift—figured it would be rude not to at least try it.”

“I met your new recruit earlier—Life Day Lieutenant Kimble…nice.”

“He’s a good kid,” she murmured and took a mouthful of her drink. “Cute too…real heartbreaker already and he’s only four.”

“It’s gotta be tough having them here. Is that why you’re in here by yourself? I _know_ you don’t drink. You don’t still have feelings for—”

“No. It’s not that.”

“Then what?”

“I didn’t figure I’d be good company.”

“This is me you’re talking to.”

She swirled her drink and rocked the remnants back and forth in her glass. “I guess he reminded me of Deston—or rather what I thought he’d be like—cute, clever, a real chip off the old block.”

Theron smiled sadly.  “Sounds like you’ve been thinking about them a lot.”

“I’ve never stopped—but at least no one can hurt them now.”

“Yeah. S’pose not.”

“See, I told you I wasn’t good company—I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“Let go—that’s what Master Zho would say when things were at their darkest. He’d remind me to live in the present.”

A faraway look stilled her features before she echoed him. “Let go…” She smiled.  “My father said something similar.”

“You talked to him?”

“Yeah. He told me to let go of the past.  I’m not gaining anything by holding on.”

“Have to say I agree with him.  So what are you going to do about it?”

“This…” She leaned across her desk and flicked on the music link on the holonet. Soothing Life Day music filtered into the ready room.  

She rounded her desk and playfully extended her hand to him.  “Dance with me?”

“Love to,” he murmured and swept her up against him.

His thumb swished over the base of her spine and she snuggled into his shoulder.  They swayed in time with the romantic strains of string instruments and light percussion.  Her fingertips lazed over the nape of his neck and he shivered against her.

She breathed him in, his scent like vetiver—earthy and fresh like the forest at night.  Her eyes closed and nothing mattered except his warmth and the way their bodies fit together.

The combined beating of their hearts formed a new percussion and his tenderness became the melody when the music faded.

He turned her elegantly but carried with him an undercurrent of something feral—a roughness that should never be underestimated.  He was no novice. He knew how to move and when she looked up at him, the amber in his eyes captured her.

His gaze never wavered from hers and she found herself wondering how they had never danced before this.  _This is what it meant to live—this was worth fighting for_ , she thought.

“First time in a long time you’ve smiled like you meant it,” he whispered.

“That’s because I wasn’t alive until now,” she said, beaming up at him.

He caught her face between his hands, gently holding her fast with his fingertips and pressed his lips to hers. One kiss shattered into many kisses, each one a firework as molten and bright as the first. He drew away slowly, leaving her breathless and limp. She clung to him, held up only by the strength of his body against hers.

“Theron,” she whispered. “I never stopped either.”

Something in his eyes sparked to life at her admission and his lips parted, claiming hers once more.

 

((to be continued…))

 

Merry Christmas and Happy Life Day! My best wishes to you all to enjoy whatever holiday you hold most dear.  May it be everything you want it to be.


	20. Chapter 20

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Twenty**

 

Nox reclined in the captain’s chair of the D5 Mantis they’d acquired on Fhost and drummed her fingertips over the armrest.  She glowered at the murky green world below, idly watching as a light freighter broke free of the planet’s thermosphere. “Do you have any idea how much I _hate_ that noxious dung heap of a planet?”

Andronikos scanned clumps of space junk orbiting Taris. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a swig of hot black caf. “Hmph, better hope we don’t gotta wade through some toxic dump to find the ol’ lady.”

“Been there, done that,” she said, picking her nails. “Only it was on Balmorra—before we met—back when I was part colicoid.”

“You sure have done some messed up things, Sith.”

Nox chuckled.  “Just show me where the fun is.” Her gaze landed on Vowrawn’s urn, gleaming in its niche above the com panel.

A frantic beeping noise pealed through the cabin. “Sensors have got something. Let’s hope it’s her—sure as hell don’t wanna spend another seven hours scanning debris fields.”

“Magnify visual. I want to be sure.”

“Uh huh,” Andronikos grunted and tapped the controls to enlarge the image of the object on the port side.

Nox crept forward to the edge of her seat.  A flat-topped pyramid with humanoid faces carved into all four vertical sides rotated before her.  “It would appear this is our lucky day.  Lock on and bring it inside.”

“You got it.” 

“Once we have it safely on board, set a course for Dromund Kaas—as much fun as this has been—I’ve been away far too long.”

“Sure thing.” Andronikos watched the ship’s golden beam tug the Rakatan containment unit aboard. He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out, his gaze following Nox’s reflection out of the cockpit.

She flew downstairs to the cargo area, her robes billowing behind her. With the containment field in place, the exterior cargo hatch closed and the interior door rose to allow her entry. She knelt beside the mind trap and reached out with the Force.

Inside the stark white prison, Zash paced and plotted and muttered under her breath. Upon sensing Nox beyond the confines of the trap, she froze, her expression suddenly keen and horrifyingly alert.

The withered husk of a woman charged with astonishing power, rabid yellow eyes fuming. Her face resembled saggy wrinkled leatheris stretched over a skull filled with ruined brown teeth.

Rebuffed by some unseen force the decrepit Sith was thrown back to the center of the chamber.  Gnarled, twiggy fingers tipped with warped yellow nails clawed at the space inside and though Nox couldn’t hear her, she knew Zash was screaming.

Andronikos loomed over her, his hand hovering over his blaster just-in-case. “I put ‘er on autopilot. So’s the genie still in the bottle?”

A sly smile bloomed across Nox’s face. “Perfectly intact. She’s bouncing off the walls like an insect in a jar.”

Zash’s voice croaked inside Nox’s mind. _‘I knew you’d come back eventually, apprentice. You need me…’_

Nox ignored Zash and took her hands off the device to break the connection.

“Huh. Sturdy stuff whatever it’s made out of—all this time and not even a scratch. So that’s step one. You sure you wanna go through with it?” Andronikos asked as he tethered the relic securely in place.

“Without a doubt.  This _will_ work. All we need now is a suitable host and my dear conflicted apprentice.”

“Hmph. Not sure which’ll be the bigger problem.”

“Let me handle Ashara—all I need to do is put the right spin on it and—”

Perimeter alarms blared throughout the ship.  Red emergency lights dimmed the interior and the ship lurched hard to starboard and quaked intermittently.

“The hell’s that?” Andronikos growled and bolted up the stairs to the bridge. “Karkin’ hell! We’re under attack! There’s gotta be a hundred ships.”

Nox bunched her robe in her hands and sprinted for the stairs.  Boarding pods tore into the Mantis’s hull, peeling back the interior durasteel panels into sharp petals.  She drew her lightsaber and leapt to engage the first skytrooper to emerge from the boarding pod.  The trooper spewed a volley from its laser cannon arm and Nox batted away the incoming bolts.

Pale blue clouds of somniject billowed into the ship from the pods, fogging the interior with a thick toxic brume.

“They’re boarding! And they have some sort of gas,” Nox choked out between coughing spasms.  Skytroopers filled the compartment and the poison fog, forced her to retreat up the stairs.  Her vision blurred and watered as the fog thickened. The number of troopers seemed to double before her eyes.

Andronikos flicked a line of switches across the control panel to vent the gas. He leaned into the com and shouted, “This is Captain Andronikos Revel to any Imperial vessel. Come in! The Empress is under attack—I repeat Empress Nox is under attack! Need immediate assistance at these coordinates, Revel out.”  

No sooner had he deployed the distress beacon, he drew his blasters, rolling to dodge the incoming bolts. He stole into the alcove near the cockpit to fire on the boarding party.

Blaster bolts zinged and sizzled, ricocheting off every surface. One of the troopers scooped up Nox’s body and retreated to the first boarding pod. Andronikos unleashed a fury of bolts to pick off the droids emerging from the pod but it wasn’t enough.

Droids flooded the ship like insects, some taking to the ceiling and walls as they swarmed the ship.

Andronikos ducked to one side and squeezed out several more rounds to drop another trooper.  A battle droid emerged from the fog and lobbed a stun grenade up the stairs.  The explosive bounced and skittered before spinning to a stop in front of the pirate like the rotating bottle in a slumber party game.

“Aw shi—” he managed before the device went off. His body collided with the wall behind him and his head drooped.  He lost his grip on his blaster, but it was close. He reached for the weapon and panic exploded in his chest when he couldn’t move his arm.

He fought a war against his own body, his limbs stubbornly immobile. A pair of skytroopers dragged Andronikos to the boarding pod by his armpits.

A metallic voice lifted with the venting fog.  “We have them, my lord.”

The reply came from a deep gravelly voice crackling over the droid’s com.  “Excellent. Bring them before me and blast their puny ship out of existence.”

“Your will be done, Emperor Arcann.”

“And remind the Imperials that I will not tolerate their defiance. Their Empress broke the terms of their treaty with Zakuul and now she will face the full brunt of my wrath.”

 

*

 

Nox woke.  Her head throbbed like a herd of wild fathiers stampeded inside her skull.  She grunted and winced at the bright light above.  Pain probes flanked her neck, and a droplet of interrogation serum seeped out from the tip of one of the injectors.

Charged metal bands looped across her arms and legs reminded her to stay still with a jolt of punishing electricity. She hissed at the sudden influx of agony, refusing to allow her discomfort to build into a scream.

A gruff pained growl echoed somewhere nearby followed by a string of profanity and Nox decided the sound was coming from another torture suite beyond her own—and that the sound came from Andronikos.

Slowly, her eyes grew accustomed to the light levels and her gaze panned across the chamber until it landed on her captor.

“You’re awake, at last,” Arcann observed.  “Do you know why you’re here?”

“Why don’t you enlighten me?”

“You violated your treaty with Zakuul—you were not to leave your capital without our permission and an approved Zakuulan escort.”

“Tell me why I’m _really_ here.”

Arcann circled the angled durasteel table.  “How very perceptive of you. I have something to show you.”

Nox narrowed her eyes. He tapped his datapad and a viewscreen unfurled from its niche in the ceiling, descending until it was poised before her.

Andronikos’s shouts grew louder and sharper in pitch and Nox’s jaw twitched almost imperceptibly at his torment.

“He’s more than just your pilot,” Arcann drawled.

“Irrelevant—though I would be far more inclined to continue our conversation if you stopped torturing my servant. He knows nothing—but _I_ have a great deal of knowledge that might be of use.”

Arcann’s amber eye fixed on her as he considered her proposal. Without answering, he took up his comlink.  “Cease the interrogation. The pilot is of no consequence.”

Almost immediately, Andronikos’s agony faded.  He was exhausted and on the verge of collapse.  Nox breathed a sigh of relief as she felt him slip away into merciful unconsciousness. 

“Now—what is it you wished to show me?”

“Transmissions sent to me by my sister—from Nathema.  You and your party intruded on our most sacred world—for which the punishment is death—however, I am willing to overlook your transgression in return for your cooperation.”

“There’s no reason we can’t arrive at a mutually beneficial agreement.”

“You’re in no position to dictate terms.”

“I would prefer to think of it as an exchange of favours.  I assist you voluntarily and you guarantee safe passage home to Dromund Kaas for myself and my servant as well as the return of my ship.  I’m sure as Emperor of Zakuul that’s within your power to grant and I’ve no doubt you’ll come to see it as quite a bargain.”

“Your ship has been destroyed—but I will agree to safe passage for you and your manservant.”

Nox’s heart leapt into her throat and thundered hard enough to sicken her. Vowrawn’s remains…Zash’s trap—both destroyed.  She drew a deep breath, hoping to mask her displeasure at losing her treasures. “Fine. Ask away.”

“Why did you risk everything to trespass on Nathema?”

“Simple. Vowrawn owed a debt to an ally and he sought to repay it by freeing her from your father’s people—needless to say, he failed. He’s dead.”

“Fascinating—especially given that father’s former wrath was also there.”

“He was the map—he knew the way,” she said sharply.  Her gaze remained fixed on the recording as it played out before her.

“Yet you did not arrive _together_.”

“It’s called back-up.  Look into it.”  Nox hissed as a current of electricity shot through her. Her back arched and flopped back against the cold, hard, table.

“I won’t tolerate your insolence. Do not test me again,” Arcann warned and shifted his thumb off the controller.

“What insolence? I was offering you practical advice—given your unfamiliarity with the tactic.”

Arcann threatened to squeeze the device again but resisted the impulse. “This is where it gets interesting,” he said, nodding toward the image of Nox’s attempt to bind Valkorion. “You have the ability to bind ghosts.”

“Force-walking—but as you can see, I failed to bind him. I was unable to forge a tether—he has a powerful anchor _elsewhere_.”

“My father was too powerful for you…”

“Of course, Nathema isn’t conducive to sensitive Force rituals either. I’m sure you know why.”

“Oh I do,” he rumbled as he paced. “Tell me about this Force-walking—you harness the power of Force-ghosts, yes?”

“Something like that.”

Arcann froze the image on the viewscreen. “This faint outline I see here, suggests there are others within you.”

“There are, but as I already pointed out to you, I failed.”

“And if you were to summon and capture more of these ghosts…that would increase your power? Could you bind my father then?”

“Possibly. It’s dangerous.  I nearly died containing the ones I have.”

“But you survived.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I can manage more without sacrificing my sanity.”

“It’s a price _I’m_ willing to pay,” Arcann hissed.

“I rather enjoy my mind as it is…but you’re forgetting the anchor.  Valkorion is latched onto someone quite powerful. Without this individual, I doubt it’ll be possible to separate them and bind him. Are you familiar with this person?”

“Intimately.”

Nox arched a brow and favoured him with her best wanton gaze.  “That sounds like a story and I do enjoy a good yarn.”

“The Outlander and her significance to me is none of your business.”

“A woman,” Nox’s lip edged up. “Shame we can’t approach this as friends, or even allies.  It would be so much more…pleasurable.”

“Let me make something clear to you,” Arcann depressed the device and Nox screamed and twisted against the table.  “I have no need for pleasure.”

He released the button and she fell back against the icy steel.  “But you do need my skills—and in order to do it, I need to know as much as I can about this Outlander you speak of.  You need to entice her—trap her.  Bring her here and I will untangle her from your father.  That is what you want—what you need?”

“To lure her here would be difficult.”

“But not impossible.  If I knew the sort of woman we’re dealing with, I could offer you insight—or you could ask your sister.”

“She’s not here.”

“But I am. You must know _something_ …you did say you knew her intimately, but I wonder… _how_ intimately?”

“The Outlander—is one of your people—the daughter of—Darth Marr.”

Nox’s eyes widened. “Liatrix—she’s alive?  All these years?”

“You _know_ her…”

“She was a former Jedi Master—the one who defeated your father’s voice, challenged him on many occasions before she became Sith. We’ve spoken many times and she is quite formidable.”

“None of that matters. I want to know her weaknesses.  How I might strike at her…lure her… _capture_ her.”

The way Arcann said ‘capture’ lifted the corners of Nox’s lips as surely as hooks and twine.

“To capture her—you require bait. How _else_ does one capture anything?” Nox tore her gaze away from him and glanced up at the vid screen.  “Pause the recording—now.”

Arcann froze the vid and stared at Scourge’s image. “Explain.”

“He believes your Outlander is dead and considering the fact that she’s made no attempt to communicate with him…she believes the same—a true tragedy.  Oh, this explains so much. It’s delicious.”

“Spit it out.  I’ve no patience for your vagaries.”

“Why Arcann, my dear, Scourge is her _husband_ and if you show her this recording, which I’m sure includes a coded date stamp…you’ll have her attention.”

Arcann squeezed the device and watched Nox twist and writhe and grit her teeth.  “You will show me the proper respect.  Where is my father’s former wrath now?  Why was he not with you?”

“He was killed when the temple caved in…I was told he was crushed under several tonnes of stone and debris.”

“But you didn’t see the body?”

“Didn’t you?”  Nox studied his expression intently and the answer came to her—the cave in must have damaged the temple’s well-hidden surveillance cameras. He knew nothing of the final outcome.

Arcann crossed his arms and snorted impatiently. “You mean to tell me you didn’t see his body.”

“How could I?  I lost consciousness—I was injured. You _know_ this, I’m sure you’ve watched the recording more than once.  He’s quite dead—as is Vowrawn. The ashes were aboard the ship you destroyed. I had hoped to arrange proper funeral services for both.  You deprived me of that.”

“You’re not lying—I sense no deception.”

“Of course not and if you doubt me, have your sister investigate—you said she’s on Nathema.” 

Arcann jerked his head and a hissing sound escaped his rebreather. “Yes.”

“I’ve told you the truth, Arcann, and my offer of help is sincere. Bring your Outlander here. And I will do what I must for the ritual. I have no love for Valkorion or Marr’s daughter. I only wish to return to my Empire and live out my days as a treasured ally of Zakuul.  Are we in agreement?”

He rolled his hand and the table’s restraints retracted.  “Make your preparations—but cross me and I will kill _you_ , your pilot, and raze your pathetic Empire until even the most minuscule particle no longer exists.”

A pair of knights and six skytroopers filed into the chamber at his summons.  “Assign secure quarters to our guest and see to her comfort, but she is not to leave them until I summon.”

“And what about my pilot?”  Nox inquired as the knights restrained her in stun cuffs.

“Throw him in the brig. Kill him if she defies us.”

((to be continued…))

 

Happy New Year everyone!  I wish you all the best in the coming year.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Twenty-One**

 

 

Liatrix gazed up at Theron with half-hooded eyes, their bodies swaying in time with the slow festive music.  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she whispered.

“I’d bet on it,” he murmured. “C’mon, let’s take this party somewhere a little more comfortable.” 

She trailed her fingers down his chest to linger over his abdomen. “Where did you have in mind?”

“My quarters?”

“Perfect.”

A set of approaching footfalls pattered up the hallway—light, efficient, steps. “Someone’s got bad timing,” Theron whispered.

“It’s Lana.” Liatrix eyed her chrono. “Surely the party can’t be over already.”

“She’s probably coming to see what’s keeping you.” 

Liatrix sighed and doused the glow rod. “I suppose it’d be pointless to hide under my desk?”

“It’s usually the first place they look.”

“Did you learn that in spy school?”

“More like on-the-job training.”

The lightning bright flash of overhead lights heralded Lana’s arrival. “There you are,” she said, her thumb running against the side of her datapad.

Liatrix and Theron squinted like a pair of Loth-bats rudely evicted from their cave during daylight hours. Realizing they’d forgotten the glasses and the bottle of Darkoma, Liatrix shifted to block them from view a little too late.

“What were you two doing in the dark?” No sooner had the words left her a look of dawning came over her. “I mean—actually, that doesn’t matter,” she stammered. “I need to talk to you both, it’s important.”

“What’s the matter?” Liatrix asked.

Theron perched on the corner of the desk and crossed his arms. “You look worried.” 

“It’s because I am. One of Hylo’s carriers intercepted a distress call not far from Taris. He was about to leave the system when the Eternal Fleet, including Arcann’s flagship, showed up to engage a private craft. I thought you’d want to hear it.”  

“What would they be doing all the way over there?” Liatrix asked.

“I’m afraid I have more questions than answers at the moment, Commander.”  Lana tapped her datapad and set it on the desk to replay.

The recording crackled and hissed. Barely audible over the static pops, a gravelly male voice shouted, “ _This Captain Andronikos Revel to any Imperial vessel. Come in! The Empress is under attack—I repeat, Empress Nox is under attack! Need immediate assistance at these coordinates, Revel out.”_

“Revel—he’s the one I stole the ship from on Asylum.”

“The very same,” Lana agreed. “Whatever they were doing, I suspect it was important to the Empress. Revel is one of her most trusted associates—even if he is a pirate.”

“Do we have anything more to go on?” Theron said, straightening.

“Hylo’s pilot returned to the scene after the fleet had departed but what he found wasn’t encouraging—a ship matching the signature of the distress beacon was found obliterated.”

“What about the Captain and Nox? Were they killed?” Liatrix asked.

“I don’t think so, Commander. I think Arcann is smarter than that—he’s taken them prisoner.”

Theron nodded. “But why? What would he have to gain?”

Liatrix tapped the edge of her desk and moved toward the ready room’s viewport. “Maybe he wants something Nox has and wants it badly enough to risk provoking the Empire—it’s not as if they could stand up to him…but why there? Taris is a dump.”

“Given her sphere of influence, perhaps she was searching for some lost artifact, but I don’t think that’s what’s important here,” Lana said.

Liatrix hit the replay button and folded her arms as she pored over the recording.

“Even though we’ve disabled most of the star fortresses, there are still restrictions against the Empire—being out that far would be a treaty violation—but I doubt Arcann and his whole fleet would show up to enforce that. There’s something bigger going on,” Theron said.

“Question is, what are we going to do about it? We can’t just leave them to Arcann,” Liatrix said, the words tumbling out with speedy determination. “Nox is our ally—she and Darth Vowrawn both supported my father when he was alive.”

“Maybe we should contact Vowrawn—see if he can shed some light on all this and help us put together a rescue op,” Theron suggested, his attention landing on the door at the sign of movement.

“Not unless you’re willing to hold a séance,” Jonas Balkar called out as he sauntered into the ready room. “Vowrawn’s dead.”

The distinguished, fair-haired man who had returned with Jonas lurked on the threshold, his gaze sharp and alert.

Lana’s eyes widened.  “What? That can’t be—surely you’re mistaken.”

“I know it's not what you wanna hear—I’m sorry.”

The blonde’s already pale flesh grew paler. “But how? When?”

“Just got word from my contacts on Fhost. They tell me the Sith empress, her captain and a blast from our past,” Jonas looked at Liatrix meaningfully, “Captain Gwanshoo, limped into port—their ship practically on its last thruster. Where ever they were, whatever scrap they were in, cost ‘em big.”

“How did Vowrawn die?” Lana pressed.

Liatrix eyed the newcomer warily.  “Before we go any further, I think introductions are in order. We haven’t been properly introduced.”

“My apologies, Commander,” Lana began. “He’s one of our contacts from Nar Shaddaa—Jonas has known him a long time.”

Jonas snorted. “Too long.”

The stranger pushed past the others. “Darmas Pollaran at your service.  You must be the Alliance Commander, I’ve heard so much about,” he said, with a formal bow. “May I say, you’re far more lovely than I was led to believe.  Jonas, my _friend_ , you were holding out on me.”

“Didn’t think it was important,” Jonas muttered.

“It’s not, but thank you.” Liatrix offered her hand. “A pleasure to meet you Darmas—your accent—you’re from the Republic, but your manners are Imperial.”

“Beautiful _and_ observant, I’m impressed,” he said, taking her hand.

Liatrix broke their handshake, despite Darmas’s lingering hold. “And you’re charming. You must be an agent. That would explain a few things.”

“A long time ago, m’dear, but I’m sure you understand, once in the game, always a player.”

“All too well, I’m afraid. So, Jonas and Lana recruited you to the Alliance?”

“In a manner of speaking, I think it would be more accurate to say, I volunteered to join your worthy cause. I must say I’m quite impressed by what you’ve built here in such a short time.”

“It was hardly a solo effort, but thanks.  Expanding Intelligence _is_ a priority, so any friend of these two,” Liatrix said, glancing between Jonas and Lana, “is a friend of mine. I’m sure your expertise will be an asset. Welcome aboard.”

“Thank you, Commander. I shall endeavor to do all I can to merit your trust,” Darmas said, canting his head, with a sly twitch of his brow.

Her smile failed to reach her eyes and she receded to her desk to put distance between them. “You’ve been to the infirmary for your inoculation? There’s a virus going around.”

“I have indeed. Major Quinn was quite insistent we receive our shots upon arrival. No doubt the reason I saw no evidence of contagion,” Darmas said. “You run a tight ship.”

“I’m fortunate to be surrounded by good people.”

Theron eyed Darmas intently and offered his hand.  “Theron Shan. We’ll likely be working together then.”

“ _Shan_ —surely not related to—”

Theron cut him off and rolled his eyes, “—the late Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, yes.”

“Is that so? I was going to say, Lemmy Shan—owner of Lemmy’s café on Coruscant—best Jawa juice in the galaxy—I practically had to _torture_ the recipe out of him before I left.” 

Theron’s eyes darkened into a probing stare and Darmas chuckled.  “I’m joking, of course,” he said, throwing his hands up in playful surrender.

“Oh-kay. That was _not_ what I was expecting you to say—and no—no relation to Lemmy so you’re outta luck if you’re looking for a flat cake recipe.” Theron ran his hand over the nape of his neck and looked away.

Jonas frowned and rewarded Darmas’s amusement with a sharp side-eye.

Liatrix’s gaze shifted between them.  “I know the place. In fact, it’s where I met Jonas, several years ago. Now that we have that out of the way, what happened to Vowrawn?”

“Not sure,” Jonas rocked back on his heels as he spoke. “They said his body looked like it had undergone severe trauma—like he’d been stoned to death. After they cremated him, Nox and Revel split on some second-hand P.O.S. they picked up. Gwanshoo and her crew didn’t linger either. They were outta there faster than a greased-up blaster bolt.”

“Did you try to reach her?”

“No dice. They’ve gone to ground. Reckon we won’t be seeing them for a while.”

Liatrix nodded. “Gwanshoo learned the hard way to disappear after the sticky jobs.”

“Yeah, last time she ended up in Coruscant Detention.”

“How could I forget? So many reminders of the past today…” A faraway look darkened Liatrix’s eyes but was gone just as quickly as it appeared and her gaze hardened.

 

Lana sighed. “Darth Nox must’ve compensated the smuggler and her crew handsomely to ensure their silence.  I doubt she’d want Vowrawn’s death to become public knowledge until she has matters in hand.”

“Without Nox and Vowrawn—the Empire is facing a power vacuum—not a situation I want to see prolonged. At least with them, we knew what we were dealing with. If this were to get out, it could be a problem,” Liatrix said. “All we’d need right now is for someone to stage a coup.”

Theron rounded the desk and logged onto the holonet via his facial implants. “Gonna see what I can shake loose. This reeks of a trap—Arcann _wants_ us to come looking, he’s trying to force our hand—make us come to him.”

Lana pursed her lips. “I agree. Still, there’s no guarantee we’d respond—Sith are every bit as likely to leave a rival to die than rescue them. Arcann _knows_ the Commander is Sith.”

“She was a _Jedi_ before that.” Jonas snapped and turned away from the others.

“And now I’m commander of this alliance.”

Darmas tracked his son’s reaction and watched the gathering impassively.

Liatrix’s gaze panned from face to face, her interest fixing on Darmas. There was a familiarity about him she couldn’t immediately place. They’d never met before and yet he reminded her of someone else. He caught her gaze and held it longer than most would deem polite. She looked away quickly and turned her attention back to Jonas and Lana.

“Common knowledge, Jonas.” A flair of impatience seized Lana’s tone before she resumed her normal placidity. “No doubt Arcann is banking on a display of loyalty or conscience on the Commander’s part—it’s a calculated risk based on what he knows about her—which is why I think we should refuse the bait.”

Theron rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead. “It’s obviously a trap. I’m with Lana—at least for the time being. If we stage a rescue, it’ll be on _our_ timetable, not his.”

“What could Nox possibly offer him?” Liatrix thought aloud. “He has wealth, power…the eternal fleet…”

“Perhaps companionship,” Lana offered.

“Because seizing someone’s craft and taking them prisoner reeks of romance,” Liatrix teased.

“Point taken, Commander.”

Liatrix’s smile faded, pensiveness framing her face like a mask. “Seizing a ship…taking prisoners…” she muttered under her breath. “What does he want?” 

_It doesn’t have to be this way…_

Seven words that haunted her as surely as the vision in the brazier. Her right hand opened and closed involuntarily, craving the weight of a weapon and the voices around her grew blurred and distant until Theron’s cut through the distortion to bring her back to the moment.

“Aw hell,” Theron groaned. “You’re gonna want to see this.” He adjusted his cybernetics to link up with the holo console behind the desk. “Enhance image fifty percent and increase volume by ten units.”

Arcann’s image towered over the console.  With his hands clasped stalwartly behind his back, he resembled a potent alabaster pillar—a symbol of strength and righteousness, if not tainted by the metal eclipse shadowing his face and ruined arm.

_“Outlander, if you wish the safe return of the Empress and her pilot to the Sith Empire, you will face me alone on Zakuul where you and I once spoke about what our worlds can achieve together if we were both free to rule our respective empires—goals you and I both believed were important from the moment you were brought before Valkorion. If you disregard my invitation then my judgment is death. I harbor no love for your Empire—it will burn.”_

The residue of Arcann’s voice hung over the ready room like an impending storm.  

“Nothing cryptic about that—he certainly states his intentions quite clearly,” Lana observed.

Liatrix scowled and shook her head.  “He has some nerve broadcasting this. It’s the last thing we needed—what the Empire needed.  Even if we manage to rescue Nox—they’ll imply she’s weak.”

 “To tell you the truth, the whole thing strikes me a bit odd, but I can’t quite put my finger on _why_ yet,” Theron grumbled.

Seven seconds passed and the message repeated.  Seven seconds after that it repeated again.

“Shut it off. Sonuvabish has got it looped,” Jonas barked.

“If there was even a semblance of doubt before, I think this message validates our theory that it’s a trap, Commander.”

“I agree, Lana—but something’s off like Theron said. It’s not just a trap, he’s trying to throw the galaxy into chaos.  Who knows who might have intercepted this?  I don’t like it.”

“Gonna run it backward, filter it…maybe there’s something embedded in it,” Theron said more to himself than to the group.

Darmas narrowed his eyes.  “Mind recording it for me, Agent Shan? I’ll take a crack at it—but I work best alone.”

“Sure thing, Darmas.”  Theron recorded the message and tossed the datapad to the older man.

Darmas trapped the device deftly. “Seven seconds—seems like strange interval choice.”

 

Jonas ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “What was all that about being free to rule and goals…the hell was _that_ about?”

Liatrix paced and clasped her forehead.  “It feels like a lifetime ago,” she began. “After the Eternal Empire disabled the _Erinyes_ , we had few options—the power core was strained, our shields depleted—hyperdrive completely burned out.  Our fighters—obliterated. After they boarded and executed the bridge crew, my father and I knew it was the end—we were surrounded—we had nothing left except each other and a broken ship.  We decided it was enough, so we decided to ram the Eternal Fleet with as much speed we could muster—take out as many of them as we could in our last moments—a final act of defiance.”  Her voice quavered and took on a gentler timber that she usually reserved for loved ones.

“Your father—was Darth Marr?” Darmas prodded.

“Yeah.  Forgive me, it’s still a bit difficult to talk about that moment.”

Theron glanced up sympathetically. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” She turned her back to the group and clasped her hands behind her back.  “We had the satisfaction of taking out their command ship before…before everything went dark. I’m not sure how long I was out for, but when I woke, I was in their brig and locked in stun cuffs. I wasn’t even sure at that point if my father was alive.”

“It must have been difficult,” Lana said quietly.

“Thanks, I appreciate that. Anyway, I thought I was alone in there—but I wasn’t, Arcann was with me.  He wasn’t hostile but _I_ was, at first. No matter what I said or did, he wouldn’t leave.  Eventually, we started talking and struck a deal.

“I agreed to help him assassinate his father and take over the Eternal Empire and in return, Arcann would let us go home. It was the perfect plan, right up until father and I were brought before Valkorion. 

“That’s where everything went to hell. We realized he was really Vitiate…everything happened so fast. Father wouldn’t take a knee,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut. “And Valkorion killed him.

“I never told him about the plan—even if I could’ve told him, he would never have agreed. He would’ve hated me for throwing in with Arcann,” she whispered, her voice faltering.

“I had to survive for my children and with father’s death, I had even more reason to want to see Valkorion dead. Arcann freed me and while he distracted his father, I killed him…the rest you know. He betrayed me.”

“And he would again,” Lana said gently.

Theron nodded. “You did what you did to survive, any of us would’ve done the same and you had two _very_ good reasons.”

“Arcann’s a fool if he thinks I’d ever trust him again.”

Lana nodded. “I never quite understood your reasons when we spoke before…but I do now and I apologize for being harsh to you. There were other factors in play as well.”

Jonas looked away.

“I’m sorry too, Lana,” Liatrix said quietly. “I was unfair to you and ungrateful.”

“It was a stressful time for both of us, Commander, and it belongs in the past.” Lana sighed and collected her datapad. “It’s been a long night and we have much work ahead of us.”

Theron nodded. “Yeah, why don’t we call it?  Meet up in the morning—sort this out when we’re fresh. Still have to brief Quinn and Senya too.”

“Agreed,” Lana said.

“Commander, it was my great pleasure finally meeting you,” Darmas called out before taking his leave.

“Likewise,” Liatrix agreed, her gaze following him out of the room. Once she was certain he was well out of earshot, she turned to Jonas and Lana—“When you get a minute—I want to talk to you about Darmas. I want to know who he is _exactly_.”

“I’ll prepare a personnel report, listing his qualifications and history,” Lana offered.

Jonas started for the door but before walking through it, he turned to Lana.  “There’s something we need to talk about—it’s important.”

“Will it keep until tomorrow? It’s been a long night.”

“Yeah—it’ll keep.”

 

After the room emptied, Theron pulled Liatrix close.  “Well, _that_ didn’t go as I’d hoped.”

“No kidding. Next time, we hide under the desk and take the bottle with us.”

Theron chuckled. “Bet you’re exhausted. Let me walk you back to your quarters—I’ll stay if you want me to.”

“I’d like that—but maybe a rain cheque on the sleepover? So we can do it up right. I want it to be special.”

“Sure. C’mon.  Morning comes too fast around here,” he said, gently steering her out of the ready room.

*

 

Darmas sauntered toward the quarters he’d been assigned upon arrival and stopped at the sound of rapid footfalls behind him.

“Forget something, m’boy?”

“What the hell was that in there?” Jonas snarled and threw up his arms.

“What the hell was… _what_?”  Darmas pocketed the datapad and eyed Jonas placidly.

“You know damn well, whatever game you were playing in there,” Jonas growled, jabbing a finger into his father’s chest.  “She doesn’t trust you, you know.”

“Nor should she.  We’ve only just met.  I see why you wouldn’t show me her holo-pic—it wouldn’t do her justice.”

“What even makes you think I’d have one?”

“Remember who you’re talking to.” Darmas tugged Jonas to him roughly and extracted the bulging leatheris folder in his breast pocket. 

“Hey!” Jonas protested, trying to fight the wallet away from his father. “That’s private.”

“And I know _why_.”  Darmas flicked to the hidden fold in the wallet to present the evidence.  “Let me guess, you took this just after you met…how sweet. Bet you knew even then you wouldn’t keep her.”

Jonas snatched his wallet back and crammed it into his jacket.  “What the hell is your problem? If you’ve got something to say, say it!”

“Oh, I’ve got something to say all right. Don’t ruin your damn life. Look at you. You’re damaged goods. She’s going to end up killing you.”

“ _I’m_ fine. You don’t know a thing about me.”

“Sure I do. Thirty-seven years ago…I _was_ you.”  Darmas dug into his breast pocket and extracted his wallet and split it apart.  “Take a good long look.”

Jonas’s mouth fell open as he took Darmas’ wallet.  “The hell? Who _is_ she—they could be twins…”

“That, m’boy, is your Commander’s mother…Liaseph.  I spent part of an afternoon with her _once._ Spent a week in a kolto tank after that.”

Jonas snorted. “What she do?”

“ _She_ didn’t do anything—her owner threw me off the roof. If it wasn’t for my rocket boots, I’d have smashed every vertebrae instead of just three. I deserved it.  Then I tried to make it right, but like me, my superior didn’t put much stock in a pleasure slave’s request so it wasn’t passed on—not until much later.”

“What’d she want?”

“Darth Marr…she wanted him to know where she was. She loved him.” Darmas sighed. “Long story short, they found their way to each other and _I_ was exiled to the Republic for my trouble.  So long as Marr lived, I was banned from setting a foot back into the Empire and the rest m’boy, is history. Want to know the kicker?”

“A’right, I’ll bite.”

“She was perfect, but that wasn’t good enough for the slavers…it took me a long time to figure out what it was that made her so compelling—it’s not like I’m any stranger to beautiful women, but she was unforgettable and here’s why—they altered her genetics and turned her into a living drug.  The worst sort of drug imaginable and for some of us there’s no cure—not really. You learn to accept it, ignore it, but it’s always there. You know those shots we were given earlier?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s no virus. She’s figured it out.  She’s protecting herself.”

Jonas passed the wallet back to his father.  “I don’t know what you expect me to do…if you’re right, I can’t help myself, even _with_ the shot.”

Darmas grabbed Jonas’s lapels and stared into his face. “I want you to get clean.  Lay off the damn spice, cut back the booze…and keep your distance from her.  And cut your wife loose—that’s just pathetic. She’s not a bad sort, but even she deserves better than you.”

“You done?”

“Whatever you believe—you’re all I’ve got, m’boy,” he said, releasing him. “I don’t want to see you mess up—or worse. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”

“You really think there’s anything to that message?”

“I _know_ there is. I just have to find it.” Darmas’s lip crept up slyly.

“Pfft, good luck. Sometimes a threat is just a threat.”

“And _that_ attitude is why Imperial agents will always prevail.  You SIS boys give up too easy…except for your friend, Shan— _he_ has potential.”

“I’m every bit the agent he is…”

“Then prove it.”  Darmas keyed in his entry code and went inside without looking back.

 

Inside, Darmas poured himself a finger of the Corellian whiskey he’d brought with him and settled into his workstation. He set Arcann’s message to play allowing the loop to run.

He closed his eyes and pictured the words in his mind, idly experimenting with different combinations…anagrams and then it occurred to him.  “Scan and display frequency…”

He took a swig of his drink as the progress bar crept across his screen before flashing the result—77.7 microhertz.

“Interesting choice…seventy-seven point seven…on a seven-second loop.  Seven is the key…display transmission—text version.”

The computer converted the audio into a text statement and Darmas edged closer to the monitor and rubbed his eyes.  “Filter…remove all but every seventh word.”

The progress bar inched across his display.  “Come on…” he muttered.  He reached for the bottle to refill his drink and his eyes widened at the final result.  He set the bottle aside in the deliberate fashion that comes with tantalizing distraction. “I knew it.”

_Return to me. I can free you from Valkorion, my love._

“Fascinating,” Darmas murmured under his breath. “What a heartbreaker you are, Commander—just like your mother…perhaps it’s time you used your powers for _good_ …”

 

*

A huddle of oversized rats flew apart under the bright scrutiny of the incoming shuttle.  The _Sky Princess II_ drifted inside the Zakuulan sewer system until it came to a near silent stop deep within the planet’s underbelly.  The hydraulics hissed as the boarding ramp lowered.

He tugged his hood lower, to better hide his features as he descended.  On and on, he crept through the dark labyrinth, his footfalls marked by the splashes of broken puddles.

He thought on the threat issued by the Zakuulan Emperor over the holonet and smirked. While Arcann waited for his Outlander, a far more dangerous threat loomed.

At last, he would have his vengeance against the man who destroyed all that mattered to him and he would enjoy the reaction of those who had left him for dead on a twisted world.

Vengeance was coming and it had a name—Scourge.

 

 

((to be continued…))


	22. Chapter 22

   

 

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

 

 

A whirring three-toned chirp sounded. Seconds later, came another and another.

Liatrix woke up gasping.  Damp wisps of hair clung to her forehead and the sloshy echo of her pulse thundered in her ears.  A hasty pat-down revealed the tough carbon shell she expected to find encasing her body was absent.

The pillows lay askew, forming a soft husk around her shoulders and sides.  She fought the bedding away until she was surrounded by nothing but the empty field of a stripped bed.

With the warmth gone she propped herself on her elbow and squinted in the dark. The chime sounded again, but this time she was certain it was no dream.

“ID-V8, lights—monitor and log,” she barked and sat up, shivering.  The chrono indicated only four hours had passed since she and Theron had bid each other goodnight and she’d bundled herself inside the welcoming cocoon of her bed.

The droid increased the lumen in gradual increments and she edged the door open.  She blinked up at the tall silhouette shadowing her door. “Darmas? What are you doing here?”

“Pardon the intrusion, Commander, but we need to talk.”

She re-cinched her robe more tightly and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.  “Can’t it wait ‘til morning?”

“’Fraid not. I found an encoded message in Arcann’s threat.”

“Have you informed the others? Theron? Lana?”

“No, and perhaps it’d be best you don’t either—given the sensitive nature of the message. I think you’ll understand once you see it.  May I come in?”

“Yeah—of course.” Liatrix stood aside to allow him in and closed the door quickly behind him. “Have a seat.  I’ll be with you in a moment. ID-V8, caf please.”

She disappeared into the refresher and emerged minutes later wearing a black flight suit, polished knee-length boots, and a fitted leatheris jacket. 

“Let’s see what you’ve got for me,” she said, taking a seat at her workstation.  The droid served them caf and returned to his post across the room.

Darmas glanced around the room furtively as he passed her the data. “Arcann’s nothing if not heavy-handed.”

She stared at the decoded message incredulously. “Not like it leaves much room for misunderstanding. How did you arrive at this?”

“The loop interval, his choice of broadcast frequency—seemed too deliberate to ignore and this is what the filter brought up. Does the number have any significance to you?”

“Not really—none that I can think of,” she lied.  Her brow furrowed as Arcann’s words haunted her.

_It doesn’t have to be this way._

Darmas sipped his caf and smacked his lips. “It seems to me, you have a unique opportunity here, Commander.”

“You’re suggesting I take advantage of this.”

“And why not? You wouldn’t be the first woman to exploit a man’s feelings for her own gain—only _you’d_ be doing it for the good of the galaxy.”

Liatrix glared at the datapad like it was a venomous snake about to strike. “I’d prefer a straight up fight—lightsaber to lightsaber.”

“Battles are not always won honorably, m’dear. Did Arcann behave honorably to remove his father?”

“Point taken. Sounds to me like you have a plan—but why keep it from the others?”

“I’m not blind, Commander. I doubt very much they’d approve—Lana would believe it too dangerous and Agent Shan would agree with her, though his reasons for doing so are far more personal. I understand Arcann’s mother is also here.”

“You’ve sized us all up very quickly.”

“A skill I’ve honed over the decades—not to mention Jonas was good enough to brief me on the way here.”

“So, what’s your take?”

“Arcann’s mother may have sworn herself to you but when the time comes, she won’t stand by and do nothing while you assassinate her son.  She has to be kept out of the loop if you’re to succeed.”

“I’ve suspected as much for some time.  If I was in her position, I wouldn’t even be here.”

“Unless it’s to size up the enemy.”

“You think she’s spying on us.”

“You can never be too careful, Commander.  If I were you, I’d cast a wary eye on all the Zakuulans in your midst, including that pilot—Koth.  He strikes me as being rather enamored with the former leadership. If _I_ were you, I’d restrict his access to the Gravestone or have one of _your_ people install an override. He stares at that ship like I stare at a beautiful woman.”

“I’ve noticed—the override is the better way to go—if I were to restrict his access, he’d question it.”  She logged into her workstation and after a few deft taps, she’d installed and concealed the override on the Gravestone.

Darmas took a swig of his caf. “It wasn’t _your_ idea to bring them on board, was it?”

“No—it was Lana’s—but if they act against the Alliance, I’ll know it.” She sipped her caf and stared thoughtfully into its inky surface.

“I’ve noticed Lana seems rather close to both Koth and Senya—a piece of advice—keep a close eye on your _advisor_. A Sith with no personal ambition is no Sith at all.”

“You don’t like her much.”

“Don’t misunderstand, Commander. I have nothing against her at all—but she has hand-picked many of _your_ people and in your position, I would question where their loyalties lie. Rely only on those you’ve recruited personally.”

“Sage advice.” Liatrix took a sip of her caf, allowing the bitter black liquid to linger on her tongue. “Back to the topic at hand—assassinating Arcann on the quiet—that’s what we’re talking about here.”

“Precisely, m’dear.”

She set her mug aside and withdrew the cloth roll housing her lightsaber crystals and components from her desk. “These are my weapons. I need time we don’t have.”

“You won’t need them.”

A skeptical laugh escaped her. “Are you suggesting I go unarmed?”

Darmas looked at her matter-of-factly. “How better to prove your sincerity—the purity of your intentions?”

She bowed her head and stared up at him from under her lashes. “That would be completely insane—and how do you expect me to kill him with no weapon?”

“You’re far from defenseless, but not to worry, m’dear.  I’ve given this a great deal of thought.” He removed the cigar case from his breast pocket and cracked it open to reveal an ampoule of cloudy liquid, ten cybernetic injector needles of varying lengths, but each no longer than a centimeter, and an installation unit.

“What’s all this?”

“Everything you’ll need to put Arcann down like the rabid akk dog he is.”

“You weren’t kidding when you said you’re still a player.”  Liatrix examined the ampoule of cloudy liquid.  “Poison?”

“Only the deadliest—a little something gifted to me by one of my GenoHaradan associates—I trust you’ve heard of synox?”

“Tasteless, odorless, colourless and fatal. How does all this work?”

“These,” he said, picking up one of the tiny needles, “are micro subdermal implants that would be fitted behind your fingernails—they work on a similar principle as felid claws. Each needle contains a minuscule amount of poison that you’ll be required to inject into the victim’s skin—preferably while they’re enjoying an elevated heart rate.”

Liatrix made a face and hissed, “Surely you’re not suggesting—” 

“Sometimes the greatest good is achieved through the most distasteful means,” Darmas said flatly.  The well-practiced mirth in his eyes was replaced by a steely green edge.

She slapped the workstation hard enough to vibrate their mugs and swore.

“If anyone can get close enough to Arcann, it’s _you_ , Commander.”

“What about _that_ ,” she asked, tapping the thin pre-filled syringe inside the lid of the case.

“Antidote, which would be administered before the implantation procedure—to protect you from the effects of the synox, in case you stick yourself.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Who _are_ you really? The truth—I’d prefer _not_ to have to choke it out of you.”

“As beautiful as your mother, but as shrewd as your father—both traits, I find admirable.”

“You knew my mother?”

“All too briefly—a few hours one afternoon, many years ago, but she left me a changed man.” 

He withdrew his wallet and plucked the holopic from its compartment for the second time that night. “I took this just before I met her.”

Liatrix examined the photo. “She looks sad.” 

“She was—she thought your father had just been killed.  Needless to say, she was misinformed. I took that, minutes before she leapt from the roof of the penthouse she was living in.”

“You saved her…”

“But I’m no hero. I’ve much to atone for.”

“I’m not that easily distracted—there’s more here than meets the eye.” She passed the holopic back to him and he waved it away. 

“Keep it, Commander. _You_ should be the one to have it.”

The frame’s worn and discoloured edges suggested the image had been handled often and her gaze softened. “You loved her…”

“As though I’d known her a lifetime. I realize how it sounds—but there was more to it, you understand.”

“For the sake of argument, let’s pretend I don’t.” She propped the picture against her monitor.  “Enlighten me.”

“The pheromones.  She had them—and _you_ have them too—don’t deny it.  Undoubtedly part of the reason Arcann has become so enchanted by you. Don’t you see? It’s a gift—one that would make you the consummate agent.”

“I don’t see it that way.”

“Then you should alter your perceptions. All Imperial Agents are taught seduction—but there’s always the possibility of rejection—your unique trait—eliminates that risk.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.  _Who_ are you?  You’re much more than you say—with your ties to the GenoHaradan among others, I’m guessing. Tell me.”

“You’re right. I _started_ my career with the Empire—but it evolved. In time, I was recruited by the Star Cabal—I joined, but not because I was a believer. Over the years, I’ve brokered many invaluable alliances—the GenoHaradan is just one example— favors beget favors—name any underworld syndicate and I have ties.”

“Lana said you were an information broker.”

“My primary stock and trade, though I see myself as something of a go-to man.”

“You have your own reasons for wanting Arcann dead.”

“Who doesn’t? But what matters, m’dear, is that _you_ can actually do something about it.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“Trust is a word far too easily bandied about.  I trust no one and neither should you, but one thing remains true, I am and always have been a loyal servant of the Empire—and now the Alliance, _if_ you allow it.”

“I’d _like_ to trust you Darmas—and your expertise would be an asset. I’ve always believed knowledge is power and like your Star Cabal, I don’t believe it’s restricted to Force users alone.  If anything we take it for granted and I admire the lengths the Force blind have taken to even the playing field.”

“I appreciate that, Commander.”

“You’re close to Jonas—but I don’t see him buddying up with an Imperial spy.”

Darmas sighed.  “I take it he’s never spoken of his family with you?”

“No.” A look of dawning sparked in her eyes.  “Are you…are you his _father_? The way you move, the way you stand, even the way you talk—I should’ve seen it before.”

“He’s not proud of it. Can I count on you to keep it between us?”

Liatrix eyed him warily.  “Your family issues aren’t my business, so long as they don’t interfere with or jeopardize the Alliance.”  Her gaze landed on the faux cigar case.  “That, however, _is_ my business.”

“So, tell me, m’dear…what do you think of my little plan?”

“It has potential.  But we need to work out a way to free Nox and her pilot.”

A razor sharp smile spread across his face.  “Hostages are easily freed when their captor is dead.”

 

((to be continued…))


	23. Chapter 23

    

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

 

The shuttle emerged from hyperspace high above Zakuul. In the seconds that followed there was a sensation of being suspended in perfect darkness and silence. Though the phenomenon was brief, it often felt like minutes instead of seconds and when it ended it felt like something precious had been lost, reminding Liatrix of her first time.

She gazed out at Zakuul’s deceptive serenity. Spires as sharp as bayonets lined the divide between night and day while the sun oozed out from behind the carmine moon to cast a russet glow across the world below.

There was no denying the beauty of the vista. At any other time, or in any other place, a view like this would have stolen her breath away, perhaps even inspired thoughts of what it would mean to call such a place home—but enjoying its splendor, even secretly, felt like an endorsement of Valkorion’s vision and all he’d done to create it.

The anger she’d felt during Ziost’s apocalypse wouldn’t rise at her biding. Time had diluted her rage to indifference and the bile she expected to taste never came.  All her life she’d been told how time is the great healer and she wondered how many eternities she’d need after this mission.

The skyline reminded her of the poison-filled needles behind her fingernails.  She brought the shuttle about in a sweeping arc to land on the circular platform protruding from the apex of the seventh spire.  The tower lingered on the cusp between light and shadow and was second only to the throne room in height and grandeur.

To her surprise, no knights or troopers came to arrest her as she deplaned. The wind shivered through the filmy phthalo blue robes she wore and goose pimples stippled her exposed shoulders.  The air was sweet and pungent, redolent with the fresh scent of ozone. 

Inside, her footfalls echoed in the empty hall and the long walk to the chamber ahead reminded her of the last walk she took with her father. If she dwelled on his memory now, she might lose her resolve.  He would not approve, but then Arcann was not _his_ problem to solve, but hers.

Crossing the transparisteel bridge to the observatory was like walking among the stars. The island was encased in a seamless glass bubble and housed a mighty telescope that faced the night sky.  Arcann stood in the center of it with his back to her and flanked by the twin moons.  Their combined pearly light brightened his already immaculate white armor and gave it a ghostly aura. 

Like Zakuul, there was a deceptive beauty about him—the shining prince, a light to his world—but a closer look revealed the taint of the twisted monster inside.  The black metal arm capped by the skeletal claw was a fetid reminder of the mass evils he’d inflicted on the planets that challenged him.  Where Valkorion was a devourer of worlds, using the life force to better himself—Arcann was content to destroy and waste the lives he’d taken, leaving Liatrix at a loss to decide which crime was worse.

She remained in the slanted column of his shadow, her stare drilling into the back of his head.

“You came,” he said. His voice, while gruff, lacked its usual hostility.

“That surprises you.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d receive my message.”

“It wasn’t all that hard to figure out—seven letters in my name—our first real conversation took place here, in the seventh spire. I don’t think you could’ve made it any plainer.”

“It’s a number of great significance in my world—it speaks of the mysteries of the galaxy.”

She drifted closer to him and he leered at her reflection. 

“You’re unarmed,” he observed.

“I took a chance.”  She joined him at his side and stared out at the twin moons.  “You never did tell me their names.”

“Father didn’t tell you?”

“No, and if he did I was probably too busy ignoring him.”

His grunt suggested amusement. “The one to my left is Dysnomia—that one,” he said nodding in her direction, “is Ponos.”

“And the largest? The red one?”

“That one is Neikea.” He turned to face her and she remembered the disparity in their sizes.  While not as broad in the shoulder as Scourge, he was just as solid and tall. “Why did you come? You were resistant before…”

“Two reasons…first off, you’re holding people who have nothing to do with us. I want you to let them go.”

“That’s where you’re mistaken, they have _everything_ to do with us.”

“I don’t understand how.”

“You will,” he said firmly and clasped his hands behind his back. “And the second reason?”

“You,” she murmured. “We could’ve been allies. I can’t help but wonder how different things might’ve been—if you hadn’t betrayed me.”

“This was never about you, Liatrix. It was always about Father,” he growled. “I never expected he would do what he did to you.”

“That makes two of us. We were outplayed, and like you, I want him gone for good.”

He devoured her with his gaze and made no effort at hiding his longing. “And if I were to tell you, I desire more than that?” 

She looked up at him demurely and swallowed. “You’re going to have to do better than _that_ —the last time I trusted you, I lost everything.”

“Perhaps now—I can give it back to you.”

She scoffed under her breath. “How?”

“ _I_ could be your husband. You’d bear _my_ children.  You would be Empress of Zakuul and we would reign for eternity.”

“Don’t you think Vaylin might have something to say about that?”

“She’s my sister. She knows her place.”

“Speaking of which, where is she?”

“Away—seeking healing for what Father did to her. He locked her power away. She understands better than any of us, what he’s capable of.”

“What if you can’t control her? What then?”

“Leave that to me—but first, we must rid you of Father’s influence.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

“This woman I’ve captured, the Sith Empress—she has the ability to trap ghosts.”

Liatrix positioned herself in front of him. “You think she could trap Valkorion?”

“She’d better. I need to be certain you’re free of him.”

“What’s keeping her from turning on you? I _know_ her, she’s treacherous.”

Arcann canted his head.  “You’re concerned about me…”

She gazed up at him earnestly. “Is it really so hard to believe?”

He turned his face away.  “You’ll forgive me—the concept is foreign to me.”

“Surely someone has felt that way about you before?”

“My brother, Thexan—perhaps. He and I looked out for each other. I don’t wish to discuss him.”

“It hurts, I can tell.”  She reached up, not quite brushing his exposed cheek.  “May I touch you?”

He nodded.  “You may.”

She caressed his cheek and his face sank into her palm and his eye closed. He reveled in her touch like a feral animal learning to trust. The simplicity of his affection weighed on her.

_Think of the millions, dead because of him._

Liatrix drew closer and breathed against his ear. “What if I were to tell _you_ , I desire more than _this_?”

He pulled back and eyed her warily. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying—I _want_ you. I want to feel you inside me.”

He broke away from her and paced. Darmas had stressed the importance of making her attraction known; expressing desire for a target usually stirred theirs in response. 

“You’ve awakened a part of me I’d almost forgotten.”

“Then let me help you remember,” she urged, moving closer to diminish the distance between them.

“I can’t—I mustn’t,” he said, his voice rumbling like low thunder.

She traced the inside of his thigh with the backs of her fingers, straying higher and dangerously close to his groin. “What’s stopping you? I _want_ to be with you.”

He seized her shoulders.  “Father is stopping me or I would take you against this telescope,” he snarled, his voice coiling like a serpent. “I’d do it before this entire galaxy—and none would dare question it.”

“Coward,” she teased cruelly. Her heart pattered like a hummingbird’s and a thin sheen of sweat coated her palms. She pressed her hands against her sides allowing them to linger so that her hands would dry against the fabric.

He tugged her against him, rapid breaths escaping his mask like a ronto about to charge. “I told you—this was _never_ about you.  It’s him,” he grunted. “I have to be sure you’re free of him. Only then, can we truly be together.”

“Then—bring Nox here, I’m getting impatient,” she said matter-of-factly. “If Valkorion is all that stands between us, let’s get rid of him—once and for all.” She peered up at him longingly. “And then…we’ll make love under the stars.”

“You don’t want to wait?”

“Do you?” she whispered.

Arcann stared at her for a long time, a savage glint blazing in his eye.  Without a word, he released her and strode toward the com unit on the far side of the observatory.  “Bring the Sith Empress to my observatory—quickly,” he barked into the com.

He kept his distance and returned his focus to the stars while they waited. Something in his stoic silence reminded Liatrix of her father and she winced.  Fleeting images of their naked bodies crushed together invaded her awareness.  She imagined his metal claw pawing at her flesh and shivered.

_Think of something good. Think of Theron._

Despite her best efforts, no pleasant memories came, only the realization that Theron would be questioning her absence maybe even searching for her by now. He would find her droid and learn the truth.

Before she could dwell on what his reaction might be, a quartet of Zakuulan Knights escorted a struggling Nox into the observatory.  The Knight Captain lagged behind the others, jabbing her with his glaive when she dawdled or complained.

Nox’s gaze landed on Liatrix, but the latter’s expression remained impassive. 

“You’re alive,” Nox gasped.

“Silence.” Arcann snapped as he descended from the platform.  “I trust you’re ready to perform the ritual as we discussed?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Nox grumbled. “I can make no guarantees.”

“I gave you access to the shrines of our distinguished dead. Surely you acquired the fortitude to perform the exorcism.”

“Is she agreeable?”  Nox pressed, her eyes drifting back to Liatrix.

“Arcann and I are destined to be together. The sooner you free me of Valkorion, the sooner I can embrace my future. Will you help me?”

 Nox narrowed her eyes. “We’ll need to work together, this won’t be easy.”

“I’ll do everything in my power to help…I promise.”

“The let us begin,” Arcann said, nodding his permission to his guard to release Nox from her bindings.

The guards ignited their glaives and positioned themselves around Nox.

“Arcann, tell your golden lapdogs, I require room to work.”  She stretched out her arms and laced her fingers to crack them.

He nodded and his guardians backed off.

“Much better,” Nox crooned.  “Incarnal, if you would be so good as to stand before me.”

Liatrix cast a desirous side eye at Arcann as she passed him and took her place. Nox arched a brow and kept her gaze fixed on Liatrix.

“Is this what you really want?” Nox mouthed.

“Yes. _Trust_ me,” Liatrix responded in kind.  “Get him out of me,” she said loudly enough for Arcann and the knights to hear.

“Very well…but I require a few drops of your blood,” Nox said.

Liatrix glanced over her shoulder at Arcann and extended an upturned palm.  “Give her what she needs…”

Arcann took her hand and made a cut along the fateline spanning the center of her palm.  She winced at the blade’s bite and cupped her hand to allow the blood to pool.  Nox sandwiched Liatrix’s hand between her own, allowing the blood to ooze between them.

“Dwomutsiqsa,” Nox chanted.  The word began as a low rumble in the back of Nox’s throat and grew in volume and clarity as the word became a seamless mantra. 

The darkness in Liatrix’s blood awakened, their voices hissing in her mind. Through them, she understood the word meant ‘summon the demon’ in the ancient tongue of the Red Sith. The darkness fought the pull and Liatrix cried out as the sensation of a thousand hands gripped her in an effort to resist Nox’s command.

A smoky rust-black aura gathered around Liatrix and her body shuddered involuntarily. The aura separated from her body and hung between her and Nox in a shapeless mist. As the chant grew in pitch the aura began to take the shape of whatever each person in the chamber feared most.

The knights backed away, muttering the name, “Izax” under their breath. Nox saw a weakened version of herself, stripped of the Force and compelled to serve under the bite of a lash.  The vision impelled Nox to chant more fervently until her eyes glowed with a livid purple light.

Liatrix saw a reflection of what she might become—an empty but immortal vessel doomed to devour worlds for the fleeting sensation of what it meant to be alive and taste love.

Arcann glared at the aura as it gathered into Valkorion.  Valkorion’s image extended its hand to Arcann and hissed, “Come with me, _son_ …”

“Never,” Arcann snarled.

The ghosts of Erghast, Andru, and Horak-mul appeared behind Nox and behind them, an army of lesser spirits emerged—the bedraggled remnants of Zakuul’s great warriors, many of them knights and scions.   

The spirits merged into a growing mass of ethereal blue light.  As it expanded, it devoured the rusty aura. In a bright flash, the mass exploded.  Nox collapsed and the thready remnants of what remained seeped into her body.

Liatrix faltered and caught Arcann’s proffered arm. Before her vision cleared, the black armored apparition of Tulak Hord stood before her and laughed before he turned his back to her, his cloak billowing as he vanished.

“He’s gone,” Liatrix wheezed.

“Father’s gone, at last.”

A heavy silence hung over the observatory.  “Take her back to her cell,” Arcann commanded, tossing a back hand in Nox’s direction.

The Knights scooped Nox’s unconscious body from the floor and left Liatrix and Arcann alone in the observatory.

“Are you all right?” Arcann murmured.

She turned to face him and pressed her hand against his chest, staining the bevor protecting his heart with her blood. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she whispered.

He held her and she closed her eyes.  Darmas’s advice resurfaced in her mind—simple words and touches that came involuntarily with a lover were suddenly strategies and weapons. Each action would beget another until climax.  She bit down on her lower lip and moistened it just enough to plump it.  Many a man’s weakness is a full, pouty, lower lip, Darmas had said.

 _Remember why you’re here._ _In and out, home before dinner._

She gazed up at him from under her lashes and parted her lips in a subtle pout, allowing her lip to quiver just enough to convey her desire.  Her hand slid lower, hovering over the clasp of his faulds.

“You desire me,” he said quietly.

“I do.”

He stared at her and his breath came in shallow wanting puffs through his rebreather.  “You’re certain? You don’t wish to wait? The galaxy will never again behold an occasion as grand as our wedding.”

“And they’ll have it, but our union…tonight is for us.”  With a deft flick of her fingers, the faulds cinching his waist fell away with a clatter, giving her access to the rest of the stays binding his armor.  She circled him slowly, meticulously, stripping away his armor piece by piece to expose the strapping man underneath.

Her gaze drifted to the massive scars on his chest. She traced the leaf-shaped mark that had grown over where his metal arm met his flesh.  He shivered and reached out to unclasp the gathered collar at her throat—the lynchpin to the rest of her robes.

The deep blue garments fell away and she stood before him, fully exposed. She stepped free of her clothing and shoes and kicked them aside.

He brushed the star-shaped scar he’d inflicted on her with his lightsaber and her breathing hitched—another practiced move, Darmas taught her to execute on cue.

“Do you need this?” she asked, idly tracing the ebony contours of his mask.

“You don’t wish to see what lies beneath. It is…grotesque.”

“I want to know all of you.  I want to taste you…” She reached down, fingers coiling about his erection.

He eyed her, his golden eye narrowed with apprehension.  “Free me, of all this…”

She reached up to unfasten the gorget around his throat.  The piece clattered to the floor and he removed his rebreather, to reveal his full face.  The tissue surrounding his mouth and covering his left cheek was gnarled into a twisted knot of hardened flesh and the socket surrounding his eye sagged enough to reveal the pink tissue underneath.

“I repulse you,” he grumbled.

She reached up and drew him down to her, one hand milking his length, the other brushing the nape of his neck. Her lips sought his ruined mouth and as she closed her eyes, she thought of Theron.

He pressed her against the cool metal of the massive telescope’s base and in one powerful motion, he perched her on the base and entered her.  She coiled her legs around him and locked her ankles together below the swell of his buttocks.  She moaned as he thrust into her, his length slick and robust. 

She splayed her fingers over his back and squeezed her thighs around him to hold him fast. He growled against her ear and she fought the urge to dig her nails into his back. 

_Not yet._

She nuzzled a slick path across his skin and suckled his scar.  He quickened his thrusts, and his hands clenched her backside, the metal claw digging into her flesh, but gave no indication he was nearing his finish. He moved like the tide, nearly leaving her before reclaiming her fully.  On and on, he ravaged her and she closed her eyes.  She willed her slick inner muscles to tighten at the precise moment he’d re-bury himself.  He pulled back just enough to gaze down at her and she mirrored him, coyly stealing a glimpse at the point of their union and smiled. 

He returned her smile and tugged her close, nearly lifting her away from the telescope.  The tell-tale twitch of his hardness announced he was close.  His heart hammered in his chest and as his hips seized, he emptied into her.

_Now._

She dug her nails in, savagely enough to trigger the spring mechanism and fill his body with poison. He twitched inside her, flooding her with his heat and blood oozed down his back.

He gasped against her, his climax fading as she raked his back.  She watched him intently and waited.  His eyes widened and he gazed down at her with realization. He blinked several times in succession as if struggling to clear his vision.  His body tremored involuntarily and his words slurred together. “W-what have you d-done?”

She stared at him and said nothing.

He gritted his teeth and clamped his hands around her neck and squeezed.  She grabbed his wrists and summoned the Force.  Lightning lanced up his arms and he crumbled to his knees.

“You’re—you’re just like _him_ …” he croaked before collapsing onto his side.  A wave of purple-black energy rushed out of him, the gust enough to rustle her hair. She leapt away from the telescope and knelt next to his body.  Three fingers against his throat indicated the synox had done its job. Her insides quaked uncontrollably, the sensation spreading down her legs to her knees.

She stood nude against a backdrop of stars, the twin moons, silent witnesses to her crime.  A rivulet of his seed snaked down her leg and she threw up.

After she finished retching, she ran the back of her hand over her lips and dressed.  She knelt to take his lightsaber and looked into his twisted, discoloured visage one last time. The gold in his eyes had faded to a dull icy blue and a thin string of bloody spittle leaked from the corner of his ashen mouth and she knew she would never forget this moment.

 

((to be continued…))

 

A/N:  The moon names are (mine), as I couldn’t find actual names for the Zakuulan moons.

 

 

 

 


	24. Chapter 24

  

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

 

 

Theron stormed into the war room clenching his data pad hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

Lana closed the distance between them and fell in at his side.  “It appears the Commander has gone to face Arcann alone. Were you able to learn anything further?”

“You could say that,” he sneered. “Here.” He thrust the datapad into her hands and stalked over to his com station.

“What is it?” Lana asked, jogging to catch up to him.

“A recording I pulled off ID-V8,” he barked over his shoulder. “Just tell me one thing Lana, why didn’t you say anything? Hell, why didn’t Jonas?”

“About what? I have no idea what you’re talking about, Theron.”

“Pollaran is your father-in-law.  I think that might’ve been useful to know. Why’d you keep it from me?”

Lana’s eyes grew wide.  “He’s what?” 

“You heard me. Don’t tell me background checks are beneath you.”

“I-I didn’t know. I swear this is the first I hear of it.  Jonas never talks about his family—ever.”

Theron eyed her warily.  “You really didn’t know?”

Lana shook her head. “No, and I have no idea why Jonas wouldn’t have mentioned it. Maybe he doesn’t know either.”

“Oh, _he_ knows all right. Just listen to it.”

“I can see you’re upset, Theron.”

“Damn right I’m upset.”  He ran his hand through his hair and snorted. “Upset doesn’t even _begin_ to cover it.”

Lana downloaded the recording into the holo display terminal. “Initiate playback with date and time stamp.”

The holographic images of Liatrix and Darmas sprouted over the holo display. “What would he want with the Commander at that hour?”

“He decrypted Arcann’s threat into a more _personal_ message.  Using his algorithms I got the same result.”

“You’re certain it’s not a coincidence?”

“Does that sound like a coincidence to you? It’s more than a bit obvious—I _knew_ he was up to something,” Theron growled.

“Arcann or Darmas?”

“Both—but wait for it,” he said holding up his index finger, “the best part’s coming up.”

They huddled over the display and Theron glanced back at the door to ensure they were still alone.

“I had no idea she harbored such mistrust toward our Zakuulan allies.”

“Lia has a good poker face,” Theron sighed. “Too good, sometimes. But you know what gets me? She’s confiding in _him_ —and you and I both know trust does _not_ come easily to her.”

“I’ve been working with him for some time, he’s a valuable asset. He checks out.”

“Oh yeah?” Theron snorted.  “Don’t be so sure. He all but suggested you’re working for the other side. Listen.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Lana huffed and fell quiet. She paused the playback and frowned. “I recruited Senya and Koth because we needed insight into the Zakuulan military.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Theron grunted. “There’s more and you’re not gonna like it. I know I sure as hell don’t.”

“Resume playback.” Lana screwed up her face.  “She’s completely lost her mind. Confronting Arcann alone and unarmed—what was she thinking?”

“Not quite unarmed.” He nodded at the holo.

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing—synox injectors?” Lana shook her head incredulously.

“Back in the SIS, we called them ‘covert lethal application ware’ or _claws_ for short—not something we’d typically resort to—they were considered unethical.”

“I’ve heard of them, but I never actually thought—”

“—That they were real? Spies don’t just make this stuff up, Lana. Especially the ones on _your_ side.”

Lana ignored the barb against the Empire. “And what does he mean by ‘enjoying an elevated heart rate?’ Surely he’s not suggesting she—”

Theron sank into the chair at the station and pressed his palm against his forehead.  “That’s _exactly_ what he’s suggesting—adrenaline dilates the blood vessels and elevates the heart rate, which would hasten the delivery of the synox. The faster it kills, the less time the target has to retaliate. I can’t believe she agreed to it!”

“And that can only be achieved through seduction,” Lana whispered. “I can’t believe she’d agree—even if it _is_ to assassinate him.”  She squinted at the holo. “What’s he doing now?”

“Inserting a contraceptive chip in her arm,” he muttered. “She didn’t have to do this—we could’ve found another way.”

“Senya can’t know,” Lana whispered under her breath.  “Not until we have this resolved.”

Theron shot out of his chair and clamped his hands over his hips. “Seriously? That’s your take away in all this?”  

“I’m sorry, Theron. I know this is difficult for you, but we have the Alliance to consider.”   

“Shut it off,” he grunted.

“Why?”

“I _said_ , shut it off. The last thing I need right now is to see the woman I love rehearsing seduction techniques with _your_ father-in-law. Once was _more_ than enough, thanks.”  The chair screeched as he kicked it aside.

“If it’s any comfort, she did this for the good of the galaxy.”

“It’s not.” He leaned heavily on his arms and glared at the darkened holo display. “Did she even _think_ about what this would do to us? And what if it goes south? She could be killed. What the hell was she thinking?” Theron slapped the console and retreated from it as if it were suddenly red hot.

Lana blanched at the tear-filled glare burning in his eyes. “She’ll be all right, Theron. I truly believe that. The Commander is nothing if not dedicated.”

“Where the hell is Pollaran anyway?” he spat.

As though on cue, Darmas sauntered into the war room, Jonas drifting in behind him.

“Why, I’m right here, Agent Shan. So _that’s_ why my ears are burning,” Darmas drawled.

“As if you didn’t know. You sonuva…” Theron vaulted over the map display table and launched himself at Darmas. He cranked his right fist back, aiming for the blond man’s face.

Darmas brought his forearm up to block the incoming blow and pivoted to strike Theron’s throat with the purlicue of his hand.

Theron gasped and shook off the choking blow. He swung again this time with his left arm. Darmas ducked and landed both fists against Theron’s midsection, sending him reeling. 

Jonas trapped Darmas’s arms and wrenched them behind his back.  “Enough!” Jonas growled.

Theron recovered well enough to sock Darmas in the gut while he was restrained, the blow hard enough to force the older man to double over and cough.

Lana hauled Theron out of the way and blocked his path.  “Stop it, that’s enough! _Both_ of you.”

Darmas tugged free of Jonas’s hold and straightened his disheveled navy-blue suit. He dabbed the swell of his lower lip where he’d bitten himself during the scuffle. “So, you’ve heard about the Commander’s plans,” he managed between breaths. “Did she log our meeting, or were you spying on her?”

Theron jabbed a finger in his face. “I’ll only say this once, Pollaran. If anything happens to her because of you, I’ll kill you myself.”

Darmas arched a well-manicured brow. “Is that so, Agent? Need I remind you war is a filthy affair—something the Commander seems to understand and unlike you, she isn’t afraid to get dirty. It’s the only way you’ll win.”

Lana looked between them.  “Being at each other’s throats will only aggravate the situation further.  All we can do now is wait—and hope this insane plot you’ve devised works.”

Jonas frowned. “Just for the record—I did _not_ want him here.”

“You should’ve told me the truth,” Lana said. “I’m your wife.”

Darmas smirked. “Well said, my dear—”

Lana whirled on him. “Let me make this plain to you.  I am _not_ your ‘dear’.  I am the Commander’s advisor and spymaster—and your interference has not only jeopardized _her_ life but the well-being of the Alliance as well. If we’re to succeed, we must work together—sowing discord and mistrust serves no one.”

“My apologies, if I’ve offended or over-stepped, that was never my intention,” Darmas said, bowing slightly. “But if I may be so bold as to enquire—what precisely has your Alliance accomplished since its inception?”

“We’ve liberated worlds all across the galaxy, engaged the enemy in battle, saved lives and sent relief to afflicted populations—as much as we’re able. The Alliance grows each day, as news of our success spreads,” Lana said.

“All very admirable indeed, but if the commander succeeds in assassinating Arcann, she’ll have accomplished more in _one_ day, than your entire Alliance has in…almost two years is it?”

“We don’t gamble with lives here,” Jonas grunted. “Everyone matters.”

“Some more than others m’boy, but that decision was never yours. The Commander could’ve refused, but clearly, she alone saw merit in the plan. Her life is her own.”

“That’s enough.” Theron’s eyes flashed. “Get him out of my sight.”  His hands balled into fists as he edged closer to his target.

Lana glanced between them and fixed on Darmas. “I think it would be best if you return to your quarters for the time being. We will keep you apprised of the situation, but you must understand we can’t afford such risks in the future.”

“As you wish,” Darmas conceded. “You know where to find me.”  A slow smile spread across his lips as he walked away.

Theron glared at Jonas.  “What—the—hell? How many years have we known each other? After all my griping about Jace and Satele and this just happened to slip your mind?”

Jonas shrugged and spread his hands. “He left my mom with a parting gift before he ditched her. I’d never even met him until my twelfth birthday. We don’t speak unless the work demands it.  I didn’t see the point in bringing it up.”

“You should’ve told me,” Lana said.

“What difference would it have made?”

“It could’ve made all the difference in the world.”

“Somehow—I doubt that.” Jonas clacked his tongue as he favored her with a sarcastic wink.

Theron hung his head and rubbed at the nape of his neck as if he were trying to erase himself.

Lana sighed.  “I don’t care to argue. I’ll be at my station—if you hear anything further.”

Once she was out of earshot, Jonas clapped Theron’s shoulder. “Sorry ‘bout that. Guess I’ll monitor subspace, see what I can pick up. Sit tight—it’ll work out.” After a final squeeze to Theron’s shoulder, Jonas sauntered out of the war room.

Theron ran his hands through his hair and locked his fingers behind his head. He winced at the new bruises forming over his ribcage. “Yeah.”

 

***

 

Liatrix killed the first Zakuulan knight she encountered and claimed her victim’s lightsaber as an offhand and donned her armor. The golden shell allowed her to pass unchallenged as she migrated from spire to spire. The mask pinched and the icy blue H.U.D projected inside the visor was uncomfortably bright.  

She moved with the perfunctory efficiency of a machine on autopilot, unmoved by the outrageous decadence of Zakuulan society or their casual disregard for the outcast.

The glass lift dropped into the bowels of the command spire where the prison level was located.  Bright, sterile halls twisted in on themselves like a labyrinth. The agonized shrieks of a man driven beyond his tolerance spiked from the heart of the prison.

Force fields as clear as glass fronted each occupied cell, and to Liatrix’s surprise, most were empty, making her search easier. In the last cell, in a row of nine others, a heap of midnight green star silk caught her attention. Nox’s body lay coiled on the floor. Her chest rose and fell with the sluggish rhythm of a hibernating animal.

Liatrix touched her ally with the Force, but wherever Nox’s state had carried her, she felt small and far away.  She would not wake anytime soon and moving her alone would summon unwanted interference. Nox’s pilot could help if he was still alive.

Her focus gravitated toward the source of the profanity-laden shrieks. Mindlessly she continued to the interrogation suites and paused outside the chamber.  The man inside had been stripped to the waist and shackled to an interrogation rack.

Sweat coated the muscled ladder defining his abdomen and a detailed tattoo of a raptoran bursting out of a red star bridged his pecs.  

The right side of his face was marred by what first appeared to be scars, but were actually jagged bolts the colour of dried blood. Though she had only seen him once at a distance, the man on the rack resembled the owner of the _Sky Princess II_.

The torture droid hovered closer to the rack after refilling on pain gel, icy droplets bubbling from the tips of its gangly claws. 

Liatrix glared at the droid and wrenched her hand into a fist.  The golden sphere collapsed, its crinkled remains clattering to the floor like an empty ale can.

“Are you Andronikos Revel—Captain of the _SkyPrincess II_?”

His eyes narrowed into slits, the dark blue eyes suddenly sharp. “So what if I am?” he grunted. “Who the hell are you?”

“The Outlander. I’m here to rescue you and Nox.”

“Huh. You’ve gotta be farkin’ kidding me.”

Liatrix waved her hand with a subtle flourish.  The thick electrified restraints trapping his wrists and ankles snapped open and fell asunder. “Can you manage? I need help with her—she’s unconscious and she won’t wake.”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice.” Andronikos hauled himself off the rack. “I’m up,” he growled. “You do your part, I’ll do mine. Where is she?”

“This way. But first, put out your arms.”  Liatrix snatched a pair of stun cuffs off one of the metal trays and laid them over his wrists without fastening them.

“My blaster’s over there,” he barked, nodding at the counter.

Liatrix summoned the pistol to hand and hooked the muzzle under his waistband over the small of his back. “Let’s go.” 

She kept him close to help conceal the weapon tucked inside his trousers. The cell block had grown silent, save for the whirr of fans and the buzz of electricity powering the section. A knight stepped off the lift and cocked his head as he approached. 

“Where are you taking prisoner Oh-three-seven-one-two?”

“Throne room. Emperor Arcann wants to interrogate him personally,” Liatrix grunted.

“When you’re finished, join the investigation unit at the seventh spire—there’s been an unauthorized landing outside the observatory.”

“Understood,” Liatrix barked.

The knight started toward the prison’s administration offices.  No sooner had he turned his back, Liatrix ran him through with Arcann’s lightsaber. “Strip him—this place is gonna be swarming in a minute.”

“Lemme guess—you’re the bad parking job,” he said, crouching to undress the knight.

“Yeah.”

Andronikos strapped on the armor as if were second nature to him and dragged the dead knight into a nearby mechanical room. An abrupt discharge from his blaster fused the locking mechanism on the door. “Sure hope you got a plan for getting us off this rock.”

“I _did_ —now we get to make it up as we go along. C’mon.”

 

At Nox’s cell, Liatrix eyed the force field controls.  “We don’t have time to slice this.”

“All ready on it.” Andronikos aimed his pistol at the power generator and fired.  Sparks rained from the damaged unit and the force fields sealing the cells fizzled and vanished. Andronikos charged inside and dropped to one knee next to Nox.

“Crazy Sith—the hell they do to ya?” He grumbled as he hefted her against him.

Liatrix kept watch. “I’ll explain later.  We really _need_ to go.”

The few prisoners on the block bolted from their cells and scattered like nerfs escaping slaughter.

An emergency klaxon blared through the block and the lights dimmed and pulsed red.

Andronikos swore and nudged Liatrix.  “This way—I’ve spent enough time in jails to know the best way out is through the sewers. 

“Lead the way.”  She drew the lightsabers she’d stolen but didn’t ignite them.

He draped Nox over his left shoulder and drew his pistol with his free hand.  They crept along the halls, dividing their escape between jogging to make time and ducking into alcoves and against equipment to avoid being seen. 

A pair of skytroopers rounded the corridor and fired.  Liatrix batted their bolts aside with Arcann’s weapon and Andronikos dropped them with a few well-placed plasma bolts.

“You’ve done this before,” Liatrix hissed as they navigated the cell block. 

“Heh. So’ave you,” he grunted. 

They cut through the maintenance department and ducked into a service hall. An unarmed man in coveralls emerged from the fresher and yelped.  Andronikos jabbed him in the nose and bashed his cheek with his pistol’s slide.  The civilian dropped, blood gushing from his nose.

Andronikos stepped over the body. “There’s an access hatch over there,” he barked over his shoulder. 

“Got it.”  Liatrix reached out with the Force and pried the circular hatch open.

“Sorry sweetheart, you’re not gonna like this,” he grunted against Nox’s shoulder and hauled her into the duct.

Liatrix followed and slammed the access port shut behind them.  Half-crouched they loped toward the light at the end of the massive duct each footfall splashing through a never-ending line of filthy puddles. “Still need a ship.”

“We can hotwire one, once we’re clear.”

A mischief of womprats gnawing on a banquet of pasty flesh squeaked and scattered as they dashed through.  The alpha rat sat up on its haunches and hissed through its jagged teeth.

“Looks like we’re makin’ friends wherever we go, huh?” he teased and ducked into the tunnel leading into the storm sewer.

Andronikos’s gait petered out and his jaw dropped. “What in blazes—I don’t believe it!”  He ambled closer to the ship and spun around to face Liatrix.  “Think if I wished for a million credits right now, I’d get it?”

“That’s your ship…”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“I was the one that borrowed it from you back on Asylum.”

“That was _you_?”

“Yeah…sorry,” she hissed and crept forward.

“But how the hell did she get _here_?”

The boarding ramp descended and the interior hatch hissed open.

“I think we’re about to find out,” Liatrix said, suddenly disquieted.

A golden armored Knight Captain descended the ramp to block access. He shook the glaive in his hand, the weapon snapping to its full length and humming to life with an icy blue light.  The gold shield denoting his rank hung off his left forearm and Liatrix remembered the Knight Captain from the observatory.

Andronikos fired a volley of bolts at the warrior.

The Knight Captain deftly spun the glaive in response. A blur of icy light deflected the blaster bolts and the soldier came to a stop at the base of the ramp.

Liatrix ignited Arcann’s lightsaber and eyed the Zakuulan knight warily. His attention shifted to the weapon in her hand.  An endless second passed between them. The Knight Captain discarded his shield and pried off the thorny helmet covering his head and lobbed it toward them.

The helmet rolled and stopped at Liatrix’s feet like a decapitated head.

“Scourge…” she whispered and pulled off her helm in response.

A diagonal scar cut across his left eye and another spanned the width of his chin.  His gaze hardened and his lips twisted into a cruel line. “I see you’ve moved on,” he sneered.

“I see you haven’t,” she retorted.

“Look, I dunno what kind of messed up reunions you Sith have, but in case you’ve forgotten, we need to get the hell outta here,” Andronikos growled.

“He’s right,” Liatrix clipped and pushed past Scourge to board the ship.  He pivoted on his heel and followed her inside.

Andronikos gave his head a shake and went inside.  “Torture rack’s startin’ to look pretty good right now,” he muttered.

 

((to be continued…))


	25. Chapter 25

  

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

 

 

 Liatrix sat motionless in the co-pilot’s chair aboard the _Sky Princess II_ , but no matter how still she sat, Arcann was there.  He was in the crusty coating on her inner thighs and in the collar of bruises around her neck. He was a memory locked inside her most tender flesh and he was caked under the free edges of her nails.

Like an exposed nerve she was privy to everything from Nox’s measured breaths to Scourge’s disgust and loathing, but she most identified with the pirate’s desire to be just about anywhere else. 

The ship rose above Zakuul’s thermosphere and into the inky depths of space.

“Where to Outlander?” Andronikos asked as he activated the star chart.

“Odessen,” Liatrix said. “I’ve already input the coordinates.”

“Hmm. Looks like we might’ve lucked out.  Any change back there?” he barked over his shoulder.

“None,” Scourge replied. “The hypospray had no effect.”

The proximity alert chimed and Andronikos swore.  “Guess I spoke too soon. Sensors indicate about a bazillion ships comin’ outta hyperspace—that can’t be good.”

“It’s not. Get us outta here,” Liatrix barked.

“We’re still within Zakuul’s gravity well and we have no shields.”

“Override the safety and punch it.”

Andronikos did a double-take. “That could rip the whole ship apart.”

“And you think the Eternal Fleet won’t? This way at least we have a chance. _Trust_ me,” Liatrix said.

“It’s your funeral.” Andronikos shut down the safety measures and engaged the hyperdrive. “Hold on!”

The _Sky Princess II_ lurched forward, the engines screaming through streaks of blazing stars. A helix of blue vapor coiled around the vessel and the controls vibrated. The hull rattled as though it were about to fly apart in a dozen directions at once and the instrument panel lit up in a blaze of red.

The lucky ash-rabbit foot Andronikos had hung from the overhead console when he purchased the ship broke free and tumbled under the instrument panel. “We’re not gonna last long like this…”

“It’ll be all right.”

Hmph. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Liatrix closed her eyes. She pulled energy from the light and the dark and the porosity in between, building layer upon layer until even the tiniest molecule knew purpose. The Force gathered into shimmering threads, each one twining with the next until a mantle of protective energy cocooned the ship.

The vibrations subsided and the hazard lights winked out one by one.  The tinny clatter gave way to the rhythmic drone of the engines. Through the Force came an awareness of star clusters and nebulae marking the path to the blue-green world of Odessen and though it was still hundreds of thousands of kilometers away, it shone brightly in her mind’s eye, its balanced energy summoning her ever closer.

Scourge narrowed his eyes and drifted toward the cockpit. Her Force signature had twisted into something unrecognizable over the years they were apart—all that he’d known was gone and the woman before him was a stranger wearing a familiar shell. He twisted his left tendril ring as he observed. The woman he loved was dead but he couldn’t deny there was something uniquely compelling about the unknown.

“Whatever Force mumbo-jumbo you’re pullin’ it’s working,” Andronikos said.

Liatrix gave no indication she’d heard him, instead, allowing the perfect maelstrom of light and dark to draw her into its center. She found solace there—a temporary reprieve from too much self-awareness. Her eyes snapped open and she gripped the armrests more tightly. “Bring us out of hyperdrive and engage the sub lights— _now_.”

The _Sky Princess II_ stuttered out of hyperspace and after a fleeting moment of peaceful suspension, the craft drifted toward Odessen.

Liatrix cupped her forehead. Her face was hot, but her fingers were a cool balm against the heat.

“Hey…you a’right? You look a little pale.” Andronikos nudged her.

“I’m fine—transmitting landing codes now. Take us down.”

“Sure thing.”

The _Sky Princess II_ settled on the central platform leading into the saucer-section of the base and Andronikos lowered the boarding ramp. 

Liatrix summoned a medical team to collect Nox and moved past Scourge without a word. He caught her elbow. “What were you thinking?”

She tugged her arm free. “I had a job to do and I did it.”

“How could you allow him to touch you—I can _smell_ him on you.”

“I can still _feel_ him too,” she snarled. “Now get out of my way.” She deplaned and stalked across the durasteel bridge and went inside where she was met by Lana, Jonas, and Theron.

Lana’s mouth tightened and her eyes grew stern. “You’re completely mad. What were you thinking going off alone without a word to anyone? You could’ve been killed.”

“Hey…go easy,” Jonas clasped Lana’s shoulder. “She’s hurt,” he said, nodding at the band of bruises around Liatrix’s throat.

“Apologies, Commander. I think I speak for all of us, when I say, I’m relieved that you’ve returned safely, but we were worried sick. We’ve been on tenterhooks ever since we discovered your plan. We’ve much to discuss—”

Theron hung back and said nothing.

“It can wait. Make sure our guests receive inoculations and assign quarters,” Liatrix said in a clipped tone.

Two orderlies guided Nox’s hover stretcher toward the infirmary and Scourge and Andronikos sauntered in behind them.

Lana gasped. “Lord Scourge? He’s alive? But how?”

“You can ask him yourself,” Liatrix said, turning to leave.

“Wait—Arcann, is he? Is he dead?”

“Yes, dammit. Now leave me alone.” Liatrix retreated down the corridor before Lana could accost her again.

“We need to discuss this,” Lana called after her.

“No, we really don’t,” Liatrix retorted as she disappeared around the corner.

“Theron, perhaps you’d better check on her,” Lana suggested.

“No—she needs time—and so do I.”

Lana turned her attention to Jonas but before she could speak, he held up his hands to stop her.  “Don’t look at me. I’ve got work to do.”

“That’s a first, I’ve actually driven you to— _work_ ,” Lana mumbled and found herself alone in the hall.

 

Inside her quarters, Liatrix stripped the armor she’d stolen and the flimsy garments she wore underneath.  She set the refresher to the highest temperature setting she could withstand and stepped into the scorching fog.  Streams of high powered water stung from all sides and she stood as still as a droid taking an oil dip.

The mission replayed in her mind.  The assignment was over but there was no feeling of satisfaction or accomplishment or even relief.

Then there was Scourge. To learn he’d survived the Eternal Empire’s invasion should have filled her with joy and desire but instead of hope for the future, there was nothing at all.

The harder she tried to feel, the more it evaded her.  Desperate for some sensation she scrubbed her body until it was raw and pink and when that wasn’t enough, she ripped the implants out from under her nails until her fingers bled.  Water mixed with her blood, diffusing it into pinkish bands before it vanished entirely. She propped herself against the back wall of the refresher and stared at nothing.

Perhaps this was what it meant to lose feeling and she remembered the monster she saw during the ritual.

The laughing image of Tulak Hord troubled her. She had drawn on his darkness in that moment, something she swore she would never do. Is this how it began—with selfish reassurances of ‘just this once?’ How many times had her father relied on Hord’s power before it turned him irrevocably numb?

Each year brought her closer to what her father became and she feared what would happen if she lived long enough.

She cranked the refresher valve off and waited for the fan and heat lamp to dry her.

 

After she’d dressed she bundled the robes she wore on the mission and threw them into the pyre. The flames wriggled and crackled and she was unable to resist their allure. As the last vestiges of fabric crumbled, a figure appeared in the flames.  The visions sharpened into a woman and Liatrix recognized Arcann’s sister, Vaylin.

_She roared into the observatory with the grace of a rabid gundark. Her hands curled at her sides and the guards lining the bridge to Arcann’s body shriveled and collapsed as their own armor turned against them._

_A ring of Scions surrounded Arcann’s remains with the red moon as a backdrop._

_She knelt to draw back the sheet covering his body. “Which one of you undressed him?”_

_“His body has not been moved. This is how he fell to the Outlander.”_

_“And you let her escape!” Vaylin shrieked.  “This shouldn’t have happened! This is your fault! You see the future, why didn’t you stop her? My brother is dead and you vultures circle his corpse!”_

_One of the aged Scions stepped forward, his hands clasped reverently. “His destiny was to fall. Every moment is predestined. We are but game pieces to the fates.”_

_“And what about my destiny, Marka?” Vaylin snarled at the elder. “If my brother’s was to fall, surely I am destined to put an end to this Outlander and rule the galaxy?”_

_“Death has found the Eternal Empire and death comes for you.”_

_“Lies! Arcann was right to hate you. You allowed him to die! Now you’ll pay with your lives!”_

_“All we have foreseen has come to pass,” Marka murmured and closed his eyes._

_A great trunk of lightning arrived at Vaylin’s summons and branched into seven lesser bolts—one for each Scion. Their bodies wriggled as her power jolted through them, and as they stood together in life, they crumbled in death to form a charred aura around Arcann’s body._

_Vaylin screeched until her lungs and throat cracked and when she couldn’t scream anymore, she fell silent. She peered into Arcann’s face for a long time before leaving the observatory._

The vision in the fire lingered and Liatrix almost looked away, but something compelled her to keep watching. 

_The observatory faded and became the Zakuulan throne room. An inky specter sprouted through the floor to stand behind the Eternal Throne. Its fingers crept over the backrest until its entire body bled through to occupy the throne. Though the specter had no eyes that she could see, it glared at her across the plane where visions and reality collided._

She frowned at the faceless enemy.  “Who are you?” she whispered.

The answer came as intimately as if it had been whispered in her ear. “ _Judgment_.”

The flames roared into a blaze and just as quickly, faded to embers.  Her holocom went off and she flinched at the sudden noise. Lana’s image blinked over the unit.  “Pardon the intrusion, Commander, but this can’t wait. You’re needed in the war room at once.”

“What’s happened?”

“I’d prefer to discuss it in person, Lana out.”

The blonde’s image vanished and Liatrix swore. She clasped her forehead and paced like a jagalor trapped in a tiny cage until her gaze fixed on her mother’s holo portrait.  Her brows furrowed.  “How do I get through this?” she whispered.

No answer came and Liatrix glared at her reflection in the mirror over her dressing table. She smoothed her hands over her leathers and lifted her chin.  “Let’s get this over with,” she muttered, arming herself with Arcann’s weapon.

Crowds of personnel buzzed in and out of the war room.  Theron and Jonas huddled over transmissions they’d pulled from the holonet, Koth stood in the opposite corner arguing with a trio of alliance techs and Tora, the blue-haired woman he counted on to assist him.

Darmas stood in the thick of it with Quinn and Scourge observed from the corner.  Lana excused herself from the huddle of agents she was with and approached Liatrix.

“There you are,” she said breathlessly. “It’s a madhouse here.  I’d hoped to spare you from it given your ordeal, but I’m afraid that’s impossible.”

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on here?”

“We’re receiving reports from all over—Vaylin is carving a path of destruction across the galaxy and she’s heading for the Core Worlds. The death toll is in the _millions_.”

Liatrix frowned. “Secure a channel and get me someone from the Republic—the Supreme Chancellor if you can manage it. Tell him it’s a priority message from the Outlander.”

“Very well.” Lana nodded and dashed to the console to make the call. 

Liatrix locked eyes with Theron while she waited, but his expression remained impassive. She folded her arms and turned away, just as Lana made the connection.  “Commander, I have a direct line to the Supreme Commander—Jace Malcolm.”

“Oh swell,” Liatrix grumbled. “Put him through.”

Theron drifted closer to the holocom and Jonas trailed behind him.

The Supreme Commander’s scarred visage appeared over the holo unit.  “You?! _You’re_ the Outlander?”

“Yes Malcolm, I am.”

“I have nothing to say to a Sith war criminal.”

“Fine. Just listen then. The Eternal Empire’s fleet is on its way to the Core Worlds. Every world they’ve encountered on their way has been annihilated—millions are dead.  I would recommend you begin evacuations.”

Jace’s hands curled into meaty fists. “Let me get this straight— _you_ provoked a hostile power by assassinating their leader and now we’re to pay the price? You’re a war criminal—and I will bring you to justice if it’s the last thing I do.”

“There are no innocents in war, Malcolm. You endangered your own grandson’s life, so your hands are just as filthy as mine. I’m not going to waste any more time arguing with you. Millions will die if you don’t evacuate.  I didn’t have to do this. Engage them at your own peril, Liatrix out.”

“Do you think he’ll listen?”  Lana said in a low voice.

“I don’t know. Guess we’ll find out if his love for the Republic is more than his hatred toward me.”

Senya stormed into the war room and the room fell silent.  “Outlander—you killed my son,” she accused, her voice wavering. “I sensed his final moments—for the first time since he was a boy I felt the good in him—how could you?  How could you murder him in cold blood? And you carry his weapon as a trophy? You’re _not_ the person I thought…I was wrong to put my faith in you.”

Liatrix lowered her gaze and approached Senya.  “I know it hurts, and I’m sorry you’re suffering, but this was always the plan. I never made any secret of my intentions.”  She unhooked Arcann’s lightsaber from her belt and laid the hilt across her palms. “You should be the one to have this.”

“You’re giving it to me?” Senya eyed the weapon and shook her head slowly before claiming it.  “You _killed_ him—and you _knew_ how Vaylin would react and you didn’t _care_. Now the entire galaxy is suffering for it—millions are dead because of you.”

“I _told_ you and the Scions both, that I would kill Arcann and Vaylin—that I was ending the Eternal Empire. You signed up for this, voluntarily,” Liatrix said, turning her back to Senya.

“She’s right,” Lana said softly. “You agreed to help us. You understood what it meant—unless you were…”

Senya ignited Arcann’s lightsaber and the amber gold weapon roared to life in her hands.  Liatrix stiffened. Lana’s weapon sprang from its holster and soared into Liatrix’s extended hand.  She reversed the grip and plunged the lightsaber backward into Senya’s gut before she could strike. Arcann’s blade deactivated with a soft hiss.

“—Unless you were spying on us,” Liatrix hissed and whirled around.

Senya fell to her knees. “You could’ve redeemed him,” she managed before she collapsed.

Koth frowned. “What have you done? She wasn’t coming at you.”

Liatrix’s gaze shot from face to face, each one running the gamut from shock to indifference.

“From where I was standing, it appeared she was,” Darmas said.

“It looked that way to me too,” Jonas echoed.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this about Senya—but she did _not_ deserve to go out like _that_ ,” Koth grunted and stalked out of the war room.

Liatrix stared at the dead woman at her feet and her mind flashed to Arcann and back again.

“For what it’s worth—if she had no intention of striking at you—why did she ignite the weapon?” Lana asked.

“I don’t know, I don’t have time to think about that now. Prepare the _Gravestone_ for take-off—we’re stopping Vaylin.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Lana asked.

“Was it _wise_ to recruit the mother of our targets?” Liatrix snapped. “We’ll talk more about _that_ later.

“Theron—see if you can find out what makes the _Gravestone’s_ weaponry unique—get schematics if you can…maybe Scorpio’s memory core has some answers.  Whatever that ship has going for it, I want it for every ship we have. If we’re going to stop the Eternal Empire, we need to destroy their fleet. I want to end this, once and for all.”

((to be continued…))


	26. Chapter 26

       

 

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

 

Liatrix cut a dark silhouette before the star-filled viewport of the _Gravestone_ as it cruised into the Coruscan sector.  Home to four trade routes, and the hub of three systems, the sector swarmed with traffic every hour of the day and night except this one.  For the first time in centuries, the sector had fallen as silent as the namesake of the ship passing through it.

On the worlds lining the outskirts of the sector, the bright surface stellations denoting thriving cities had gone dark. An invisible fog of terror rose into the atmosphere as entire cities emptied into the wilderness for shelter. Others had gone terribly and permanently silent.

Quinn glanced up from his station.  “My lord, it appears Malcolm did heed your warning and has issued a system-wide evacuation order though, regrettably for some—it was too late.”

Liatrix nodded but remained silent. She felt Scourge’s glare boring into the back of her head from the rear of the bridge.

“I didn’t think he’d be the sort to gamble with Republic lives.  He’s many things, but he isn’t stupid. He cares about his people,” Lana said.

“You’re wrong,” Liatrix said bitterly. “He’d use them if he could figure out a way to weaponize them.”

“Forgive me, Commander—I only meant—”

Liatrix’s glare silenced her and Lana’s apology died in her throat.

Koth frowned.  “Sure hope you’ve got a plan in mind, Outlander. Even with the _Gravestone_ , taking on the entire Eternal Fleet is suicide.”

“If you believe in destiny like you say you do, what happens to us is out of our hands anyway,” Liatrix said in a clipped tone.  “Scan for the Eternal Fleet.  I need to know where they are.”

“On it,” Koth barked. “Looks like there’s a concentration of ships over Coruscant.”

“Their population numbers in the trillions,” Lana gasped.

Quinn straightened. “And they haven’t the luxury of a hinterland to retreat to. Modest estimates suggest casualties will be in the millions. Clearly, Vaylin means to send a message.”

“I’ve got one of my own for her. Lay in a course.”

“Course laid in Commander.”

The _Gravestone_ came about and kept a steady pace toward Coruscant.  The last time Liatrix had passed through Coruscan space, she had been a fugitive, gravely injured and fleeing after murdering Supreme Chancellor Saresh—an act which cost her the man she loved and changed her life forever. She’d nearly lost her son then and his entire brief life had been defined by struggle thereafter.

The man who’d saved them stood at her back now—not as a pillar of support, but as an angry stranger who blamed her for his life’s ruin. Once, he had claimed to understand her, but now, she was certain he didn’t.  

She had been a creature of instinct and impulse then, but now every instance was ruled by moves and countermoves like an elaborate game of dejarik. Where passion had ruled, strategy had taken its place and anger served as its most constant soldier.

“Strange how the past returns to haunt us during uncertain times,” Scourge said softly over her shoulder as if he’d read her mind.

So absorbed by her thoughts, she flinched at his sudden proximity.

“Forgive me, I’ve startled you,” he added. “That wasn’t my intention.”

“If you’ve come to apologize, you’re wasting your time,” she said, her tone icy.

“Seeing you again, alive and _exactly_ as I remembered you—was unexpected. My initial reaction was regrettable.”

“I was told you were killed when Arcann attacked Dromund Fels—I didn’t believe it until I saw it for myself. He had me locked in carbonite for five years and in that time I lost everything. That you thought I’d given myself to him is an insult and I no longer forgive so easily.”

“You’re not the woman I knew. You’re no more than a stranger wearing a familiar face.”

“Then I trust you’ve done your grieving, just as I have. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

“I sense little in you but anger. You’ve given into the darkness,” Scourge hissed. “Haven’t you?”

“I’ve evolved out of necessity. I no longer live for your approval or anyone else’s.”

“I noticed you’ve insulated yourself with all of your past lovers. I see how the spy looks at you still.”

“Past being the operative word. Your jealousy is irrelevant to me. I don’t have time for it.” She pushed past him and crossed the bridge. “Quinn, locate the Tangin Nebula and map a course between it and Coruscant.”

“My lord, may I remind you that nebula is flanked by fields of micro black holes.”

“But the nebula itself isn’t.”

“That’s correct, my lord.”

“Good. Once you have that course mapped, transfer it into the database and autopilot.”

“Yes, my lord, at once.”

The _Gravestone_ continued through the sector, a lonely ship in a vast sea filled with stars and dread. In the distance, blue and silver auroras warned of the battle ahead.

“I’ve got Coruscant in sight. Vaylin’s command ship and the Eternal Fleet are there. Looks like they’re goin’ at it hot an’ heavy with the Republic—er…what’s left of it anyway,” Koth observed.

“Battle stations.”

“I’ll run the omnicanon,” Koth offered.

“I need you where you are. I need precision.  Scourge?”

His gaze narrowed and for a moment she thought he’d refuse. “Understood,” he muttered and left for the gunnery.

Koth scowled. “Dunno what you need precision for.  The idea’s to blast them clean outta the sky isn’t it?”

“Not this time,” Liatrix replied. “At full power, we can only take out so many before it’ll eat our hyperdrive. We need controlled bursts. We’ll have to beat a hasty exit, once we’re done.”

“I sure hope you know what you’re doing, Outlander.”

Quinn glanced over at Liatrix and his lip crept up slightly at the corner. “Departure course saved and locked in.”

“Excellent.  Move in closer, but keep us out of Malcolm’s range.  I don’t trust him.”

“Awaiting your next order, my lord.”

“Fire on the capital ship’s communications and sensor relay. Then take random shots at the rest of their fleet, I don’t want them realizing we're targeting those systems on purpose—let’s make them think it was a lucky shot.”

“Lord Scourge is firing—direct shot, my lord.  That should prevent the fleet from communicating.”

“Hit them again—this time take out Vaylin’s ship’s sensor array.”

“You’re going to blind them,” Lana breathed.

“That’s the idea.”

“Another direct hit, my lord.”

Koth rubbed the bristles on his chin. “How do you plan on getting ‘em off the Republic fleet? Looks to me like they’re pretty focused—that hammerhead’s in serious trouble.”

“Hit them again,” Liatrix commanded.

“Success. They’re firing on us, my lord.”

“Shields up.”

The blast rocked the _Gravestone_ in a burst of silvery light.

Quinn ran a quick system’s scan. “Minor hull damage. There is a small fire in the aft nacelle.”

“Give us one controlled burst from the omnicannon. Target Vaylin’s warp drive—a twenty-second burst ought to do it. Cripple her.”

The _Gravestone’s_ durasteel jaws groaned as they opened to free the omnicannon.  The weapon spat a volley of steely blue energy, the twenty-second barrage feeling more like an eternity.

“That got her attention. Vaylin’s pullin’ off the Republic ship—and not a second too soon either. Their shields are at three percent.”

“Clearly their sensors are inoperational. I doubt Vaylin could’ve resisted destroying Malcolm’s ship, had she known,” Lana said.

“Will he be able to pursue us?”

“No, my lord,” Quinn said.

“Good.  We don’t need him following us and ruining the surprise. Vent the aft nacelle, let her think she’s done some damage.”

“One injured bird coming right up,” Koth barked.

Black smoke plumed from the nacelle and drifted over the aft quarter of the ship.  Vaylin’s ship moved to pursue.

“Quinn, take us back to the nebula.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

The _Gravestone_ limped toward the Tangin Nebula.  The shields flickered as Vaylin fired. “Keep us just out of range.”

“It doesn’t appear as though they intend to break off pursuit,” Quinn said.

“Good. Have the autopilot take us inside the nebula now.”

The _Gravestone_ drifted into the depths of the thick orange and blue nebula.  Liatrix held her breath.  The bridge fell silent as they watched the pursuing fleet decide their course. Jags of lightning flashed before the viewport, touching the bridge with blinding white light.

“Is she following us in?”

“No, my lord. They’re going around and increasing speed.  My guess is they hope to flank us upon exit.”

Liatrix leaned over the console, her gaze fixed on the instrument panels. “Monitor them—I want to see it.”

“There is some interference, owing to the nebula, but we have visuals at seventy-five percent. Attempting to boost the signal to eighty percent,” Lana said. “I’m afraid that’s the best I can do.”

“We have visuals,” Koth announced and turned his attention to the massive screens flanking the viewport.

“Well done,” Liatrix murmured. 

Every set of eyes on the bridge settled on the bright green images. The Eternal Fleet darted forward in their peculiar geometric formation along the exterior reaches of the nebula.  One by one the ships stretched and grew before rubber banding back to their normal shape and winking out. The monitor blinked as rapidly as a strobe light in a cantina.

Koth whooped.  “I don’t believe it. They’re dropping like flies. Will ya look at that! It’s like they’re being sucked through a cheese grater.”

“Vaylin’s flagship has entered the micro black hole field,” Quinn announced. “The Eternal Fleet has lost sixty-three percent of their ships. This is a stunning victory, my lord. I must commend you—using the fields to our advantage—nothing short of brilliant.”

“Vaylin was foolish to bring the fight here,” Lana said. “Clearly she’s unfamiliar with the battleground.”

Liatrix studied the readouts and frowned. “It’s not over yet. Vaylin’s ship—is she taking much damage?”

“Minimal—though her shields are nearly depleted.  The remainder of the fleet is altering course. They’re coming into the nebula, my lord.”

“So is Vaylin,” Lana snapped.

Liatrix’s saber hand opened and closed. “I doubt they’ll be going after any more worlds, assuming they survive.”

“We’ve accomplished a great deal, however, we remain considerably outnumbered. I recommend we leave at once,” Quinn suggested.

“Agreed, take us home.”

“They’re firing on us,” Koth bellowed.

“Full power to aft shields. Disengage autopilot and engage hyperspeed.”

The ship lurched and bobbed.  Scourge returned to his station, his gaze steely as it moved over the bridge crew.

“Here we go! Hang on everyone!” Koth announced.

The _Gravestone_ zoomed free of the nebula, the stars melting past as they shot out of the system.

 

***

 

Theron took a sip of his caf as he replayed the security cam footage of the war room. His attention fixed on Senya and the moment she chose to ignite Arcann’s lightsaber.  His brows puckered and he set his caf aside. “Dammit.”

“What’s the matter?” Jonas rolled his chair over from his station.

“This,” he said, swiveling his monitor to give Jonas a better view.  “She wasn’t moving in to attack. Watch. She ignites the weapon, but look at her expression—that’s grief, not a prelude to an attack.”

Jonas sighed.  “Liatrix had her back to her. I can see how she would’ve come to that conclusion.  I could’ve sworn Senya was looking to strike.”

“Really? Or did Darmas’s opinion influence yours?”

“Look—it happened so fast. It’s a mistake anyone of us could’ve made.”

“Except she would’ve sensed Senya’s intentions.”

“It’s not like either of us can rely on the Force. We’ve got eyes, ears, and our gut. That’s all. How many times have we shot first in a situation? Plenty. Not like this is gonna bring Senya back or change anything.”

Theron ran his hand over his face and slumped in his chair. “S’pose you’re right.  Guess I needed to be sure.”

“Did you manage to pull anything from Scorpio’s data banks?”

“Got some schematics and a star map to a place called Iokath.  Seems whatever we need, we might find there.  Apparently, it’s an abandoned arms factory.  There’s a lot here. I’ve been working at it for months, but there’s quite a bit I need to verify and get checked out.”

“Better than a poke in the eye with the business end of a lightsaber,” Jonas quipped.

“That’s not even a little bit funny right now. You did catch what she said to Lana before, right?”

“Yeah. Looks like we’re in for a few changes.”

“I know she’s your wife, but I gotta be honest here.  Lana wasn’t the best choice for Intelligence. Marr should’ve promoted Cipher 9.”

Jonas shrugged. “But she’s not here is she?”

“Maybe it’s time we tracked her down.”

“Good luck with that. If I was her, I wouldn’t wanna be found.”  Jonas patted down his jacket for a cigar but remembered he had none. “If she’s smart, she’ll stay on whatever beach she’s on with that creepy guy she’s with.”

“Vector was all right,” Theron smirked.  “For an Imp.”

“Can’t trust a diplomat. They’ll say anything—even their death threats come wrapped in a bow.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“If Frosty gets canned—who d’you suppose will head up Intelligence? You?”

“Dunno—but I know this much. I’ve got enough on my plate, so, no thanks.” Theron held up his hands as if pushing the idea well away.

“Guess we’re putting the thrusters before the pod.”  Jonas glanced up.  “Hey—they’re back and it looks like everyone’s in more or less one piece. Scourge looks pissed.”

“When doesn’t he?”

Jonas smirked. “Is it me, or does Koth look like he’s up to something?”

“You know him better than I do.”

“Seemed like a stand-up guy on Denon, but I dunno, there’s something about him.  I don’t think he’s happy.”

“Keep an eye on him.”  Theron scowled as Darmas sauntered into the war room.  “Hell, keep an eye on him too.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jonas agreed.  “He might be my old man, but I trust him about as much as a lit fuse in a gas mine.”

Theron peered past Jonas and kept his attention fixed on the entrance.  Liatrix straggled behind the others and kept her distance.

“Has there been any change in Nox’s condition?”  Liatrix asked.

“No, not yet—still comatose. Doc and Captain Revel are with her,” Theron replied.  “Did you manage to stop Vaylin and her fleet?”

“For now.  Quinn, kindly bring everyone up to speed.”

“Of course, my lord.” He clasped his hands behind his back and waited until the room fell silent. “The Core worlds are reeling. Preliminary guesstimates place the death toll in the trillions, damages at current are incalculable.

“However, we managed to inflict serious damage on Vaylin’s flagship and we’ve reduced the Eternal Fleet’s presence by sixty-three percent. Clearly, Vaylin made a grave mistake in bringing the battle to the core worlds. The Commander successfully used the micro black hole fields adjacent to the Tangin Nebula.  Though we remain significantly outnumbered, our odds of victory have been substantially increased. Arcann is dead and the Eternal Empire wounded.  We must not let up. We must continue our assault—were you able to learn anything further in regards to the omnicannon, Agent Shan?”

“Yeah, pulled up a place called Iokath—it has resource potential.  Gonna check it out. What about the Republic? Did Malcolm interfere?”

Quinn shook his head. “We never gave him the chance—but what remains of their fleet survived Vaylin’s attack.  Had we not arrived when we did, I dare say the Supreme Commander would have met his end.”

Theron bowed his head and shut his eyes.

Once Liatrix was certain Quinn had the debriefing well in hand, she slipped out and quickened her pace, eager to leave the war room behind. She felt Scourge’s gaze on her back but left it behind with the others. With barely an upward glance she arrived at her quarters and locked the door behind her.

She sat at her dressing table and stared vacantly at the monster reflected back at her. She blinked and the image reverted to her own reflection. Shadows flitted from corner to corner like disembodied spirits and for a moment it appeared Arcann slept in her bed.  She shuddered and he vanished as quickly as he appeared.

She folded her arms over the table and rested her chin on them, her mother’s portrait the last thing she saw before succumbing to fatigue.

 

((to be continued…))

 

 

 

 


	27. Chapter 27

  

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

 

                                                             

Andronikos ambled into the dimly lit infirmary, past a row of crisply made empty beds.  The air carried the faint but acrid tinge of medicine and disinfectant. Nox lay tucked under a blue coarse weave blanket her hands clasped over her chest in a corpse-like repose. Flecks of dust floated in the beam of blue light shining down on her body like distant stars. Doc rechecked her vitals and shook his head as he entered the data into his pad.  

“Don’t s’pose there’s been any change, huh Doc?”

“Sure wish there was,” he said, tugging his stethoscope lower to dangle around his neck. “We’re doin’ all we can.”

“It’s been over two weeks. Now look, I’m no doctor, but I’ve been around the galaxy long enough to know this is bad. She’s gonna pull through, isn’t she?”

“Her vitals are stable and there’s no trauma. Her brain function looks normal. I gotta admit, ol’Doc is stumped.  There’s no medical reason I can come up with for her condition—it’s like she’s in stasis.”

“Hmph. Think it might be some Sith thing causing it?”

“Hey, it’s entirely possible. Her brainwaves indicate her mind is active—similar to REM sleep,” he said, tapping the monitor next to the bed. “Maybe you should ask tall, red and surly if _he’_ s got any ideas.”

“Y’think she can hear me? Been tryin’ to talk to her—see if that shakes anything loose.”

“There are documented cases of coma patients being aware of their visitors. Can’t hurt to try, that’s what I always say.”

“Guess not. Huh.”  Andronikos flipped the chair around and straddled the seat.

Doc collected his datapad and sauntered toward the door. “I’ll be in my office if you have any more questions.”

“Sure thing.”

Once he was sure they were alone, he sandwiched her hand between his.  Her skin was cool and dry and if he held still, he could feel her pulse throb against his palms.  His mouth twisted and heat rose up from under his collar. A frustrated growl escaped between clenched teeth.

“Dammit, Sith. I dunno if you can hear me or not but I gotta say it.  Going to him must be real tempting right now—I know he meant a lot to ya—maybe as much as you mean to me.”  He touched his forehead with their clasped hands. “I get it—he was your kind. You shared things I never understood—and never will, but dammit, don’t you do it. Don’t you dare leave me! You got that? You got that you damn Sith!” 

His voice broke. He swiped his sleeve across his face and snuffled and his breathing came in rapid angry bursts. “I almost wish I’d never met ya.”

For all the times she’d called him a lunkheaded pirate and he’d hated it, he would’ve given anything to hear her call him that at least once more.  His eyes closed and he pressed his stubbly cheek against her hand.

 

*

 

_Nox wandered over the shifting sands and peered into the darkness.  The ground ahead of her dropped sharply into a set of stairs. She was reminded of her time on Korriban when she was no more than a hapless slave ordered into the tombs of dead legends to sniff out treasure like a puffer pig._

_The air was dry and stale. Rows of blackened skulls lined the passage and glistening ebony columns held up the vaulted ceiling like an eternal burden.  As she progressed further inside, an icy blue light flickered over the chamber, lighting her way._

_At the end of the corridor, a massive black-robed wraith rose up from the inky floor and folded his arms in wait._

_Nox mirrored the wraith and frowned.  “Who are you and what is this place?”_

_The wraith laughed.  “A sad day—when the child of my servant and master of my most cherished minion doesn’t know me.”_

_“I am descended from the great and noble Lord Aloysius Kallig.”_

_“Kallig was my servant and my general—but also the greatest and most dangerous of my rivals.”_

_“You’re Tulak Hord—or rather what remains of the man he was.”_

_“What he was, I am still, but more so than before—only a fool would believe a corporeal shell defines power, rather than place limits upon it.”_

_“You were also his friend until you had him murdered.”_

_“Did my Dashade tell you this?”_

_“Khem speaks of you often when we travel together.”_

_“But he was not with you at the exorcism—why?”_

_“I don’t keep him on a leash—he goes where he pleases and it didn’t suit me to include him.”_

_“T’is folly to allow the monster such latitude. He will devour you when you least expect.”_

_“Our bond is unique—one you wouldn’t understand.”_

_The wraith laughed and clapped his leather-clad hands.  “You fornicate with the Dashade. You’re such a delicate creature, it’s a wonder he hasn’t torn you to shreds. Or maybe he did and ordinary men no longer suffice. Is this how you expect to hold his loyalty? With the charms of your tender flesh?”_

_“It’s worked so far.”_

_“Do you think you’re the first to climb that mountain?”_

_“Perhaps not the first, but I am the best,” Nox purred._

_“Did you know their young chew their way out of their maternal vessel? They’re born with those teeth and claws. The worth of their females is decided by whether they survive the birth.” The tilt of his masked head suggested his eyes wandered the landscape of her body. “You’re such a frail little slip. I could snap you in two with a look.”_

_“Hardly.” Nox laughed. “I could birth an army of Dashade if I desired—but I don’t, even if we were biologically compatible.”_

_“Never discount the determination of their seed—purebloods aren’t so different than their Massassi ancestors. Beast bred to beast—it’s not impossible.” The wraith cocked his head and seemed to look through her. “Ah, but there is the problem—you’re not as pureblooded as you appear. You wear the flesh of a pureblood—clothing donated by your mother. Let me see those pale eyes—proof of the human in the mix—you would’ve passed, if not for those curious grey eyes.”_

_“As fascinating as all this is, I want to know why I’m here—wherever here is. What do you want?”_

_“I brought you here, to convey my thanks and offer you a boon of your choosing.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Because of you, my vessel is no longer polluted by a parasite. I no longer need to hide my thoughts—I can move and think freely again.”_

_“You mean Valkorion.”_

_“I know him by a less pompous name, but yes.”_

_Nox picked at her chocolate coloured nails and arched a brow.  “So, you’re telling me, that you brought me here, to give me a gift?”_

_“I prefer to call it a boon, but yes, in essence, that is correct.”_

_“What will it cost me? You don’t strike me as the sort to give gifts without strings.”_

_“In most cases, that’s true, as you can see by these walls.  Few impress me, and fewer still perform a service for me—so choose your boon.”_

_“I want to know your secrets—how to bring the dead back to life—how to live forever. I need your knowledge.”_

_“Who do you wish returned?”_

_“My mate—Veles Vowrawn.”_

_“That trickster!” Hord half growled half spat._

_“I see you’re acquainted,” Nox said with a sly smile. “Does that mean you won’t share your secrets with me?”_

_The light behind the wraith’s mask deepened to a blood red.  “I offered you a boon—not two.  Choose your preference.  Choose wisely,” he hissed, the humor in his tone replaced by rage._

_“Knowledge counts as one thing.”_

_“I see his influence has already poisoned your disposition. Do not test my patience further. This is my domain.”_

_“I could’ve lied.”_

_“And I could drag you kicking and screaming into the void where insanity dwells. Make your choice.”_

_“Then I choose to know the ritual to bring Vowrawn back to life.”_

_“Fool.  You could’ve been eternal.”_

_“If I know how to bring the dead back to life, then I will have eternity.”_

_“He will not be as you remember. You require a vessel and you require his blood or that of his line.”_

_“I know…but I need the words, the method.  I know half the ritual—which means it’s only half of what you promised me.”_

_“You tread dangerously close to the abyss, Feravai.”_

_“Be honest, you’d expect no less if you were in my position.”_

_“I will not give you eternity.”_

_“Then tell me where I can get his blood.  What I had was destroyed.”_

_“Very well. He has a grandchild—the one the living refer to as the Empire’s Wrath.”_

_“Darth Fernal? She’s his grandchild? But how? Are you sure? Where is she?”_

_“Ask him when you see him. She moves with the winds and the tides—but where ever the parasite dwells—she is not far away.”_

_“Oh that’s helpful,” she snorted. “Where should I start looking? The galaxy is endless.”_

_“Where she is now, may not be where she is when you leave me…but you may find her on the Hutt’s gaudy world.”_

_“Tell me what I need to know and I’ll be on my way.”_

_“You’ll know what is required for the ritual when you wake. I will etch the words in your memory.”_

_“Will I see you again?”_

_“I hope not.”_

_“You could ensure that…”_

_“Take what I’ve given and go now,” the wraith hissed. “Go to the voice beyond these walls.”_

_Nox’s awareness drifted free of the darkness and away from the wraith.  She rose higher and higher until the grim grey cloudy vortex carrying her grew as vibrant as a sunrise.  A voice called to her, the timbre of it as coarse and smoky as the fading embers of a once vivid blaze.  The voice carried a gruff command, imploring her to return and she willed herself to race toward it._

Her eyes fluttered open and she felt a moist weight on her shoulder. “Andronikos?” she croaked, the seductive strains of her own voice tainted by the gritty rasp that came with disuse.

“Right here, princess,” he growled. “I’m right here.”  He tugged her against him, his lips on hers faster than anyone could say ‘lunkhead.’  

Forced to part for a breath, they gazed longingly at one another.

“If I knew I was getting _that_ kind of welcome, I’d have come back sooner,” Nox purred.

“Where’d you go?”

She blinked thoughtfully before answering. “I don’t know exactly—but I know what I have to do.”

“I’ll take that as a good sign—but you ever do that again and I’ll have to come after you m’self, got that?”

“Loud and clear, Captain.”

 

*

 

The milky crystals and lightsaber components churned in a double helix above Liatrix’s head until piece by piece the components mated into a braid of light and dark metal. The spear-like pommels added an unexpected ferocity to the newly formed weapons.  The twin crystals settled inside the hilts, powering the blades to life. 

Scarlet fissures formed on the bottom of the crystals and a hair-thin vein of red ran the length of each blade’s core.

The lightsabers orbited one another in a blur of white light and with a hiss the blades retracted and the weapons gradually came to rest before Liatrix.

She opened her eyes and inspected the marriage between technology and the Force, finding it sound and satisfying.  Nearby the river babbled and the wind whispered its response through the evergreens.

“Whoah…” Kiran gasped and clamped his hands over his mouth before daring to lower them again.  “Can I talk now Master Trix?”

“Master Trix? I don’t think anyone has ever called me _that_ before.”

“My mom calls you ‘master’ and my dad calls you Trix.  Is that ok?”

“You can call me that if you like, but in there,” she said, gesturing back at the base, “it’s ‘Commander’ or ‘my lord’.  I don’t want the troops to think I’m showing favoritism to one of my best lieutenants.”

He grinned and eyed the weapons. “What were their names again?”

“I’ve named them after my children…this one, my main hand is Deston and this one is Sephna. That way, they’ll always be with me.”

“Can I hold one?”

Liatrix nodded and set her main hand on his palm. “Careful. Don’t turn it on.”

“It’s not heavy,” he said, eyes wide. “Does it get heavier when it’s on?”

“No—it’s meant to be an extension of yourself and a heavy weapon would be tiring and awkward to use. Here, I’ll show you.”  She arranged herself to sit beside him. “Hold it like this…now turn it on.”

The lightsaber roared to life with a growl and a quick smile spread across his face.  “Wow! When do you get it?”

“Get what?”

“The Force.  When do you get it? I want to be like you and mom.”  Kiran sat cross-legged before her and scooched closer as if this would hasten her answer.

“You’re born with it—usually at your age, is when you start learning how to work with it.”  Liatrix retracted the blade and set it aside.

“Oh.” Kiran’s face fell.  “How can you tell if you have it? Can you get it when you’re old?”

“What do you consider _old_?”

“I dunno. Ten?”

“Sure, maybe. But most of the time you just know.  Can you do things that others can’t?”

His brows bunched together like caterpillars and he shook his head.  “No.”

“Well, why don’t you try?”  Liatrix found a pinecone and set it on the ground before them.  “The Force is a part of everything and the spaces between. Open your hand and focus on the pinecone.  See if you can make it come to you.”

Kiran shut his eyes tight and screwed up his face with concentration.  His brows twitched and when nothing happened, he opened one eye to peek before quickly shutting it again.

A set of approaching footfalls and rustling ferns announced a visitor to the thicket.  Kira emerged from behind the tall plants.  “There you are.  I’ve been looking all over for you.”

He scrambled to his feet. “Mom! I got to watch how lightsabers are made and I got to hold it and everything. And now I’m gonna make the pinecone come to me.”

“No, now you’re going to go back to our quarters and clean up for supper—I’ll be right behind you.  I just need to have a word with the Commander.”

“Aww, but mom,” he moaned.

“You heard me, now scoot.” Kira swatted the seat of his pants as he scurried past.

“I take it he didn’t ask you first?”

“No, he didn’t. He was _supposed_ to be cleaning his room.”

“Doc said he could watch, back when you first arrived—I just assumed he asked you first.”

“I’ve been meaning to come see you—but I’ve been busy settling in and he’s a handful sometimes—Kiran too.”

Liatrix nodded. “I understand.  My apologies, if his absence worried you.  I had promised him he could watch and I couldn’t afford to put it off any longer. I didn’t want to break my promise to him.”

“Why should he be any different than anyone else?” Kira shifted her weight and looked away.

“I know you’re bitter but I won’t apologize for the past. You have your life, I have mine. I have no regrets, I’d do the same again.”

“Let me be honest. I didn’t want to talk to you—I didn’t even want to come here, but it’s not like we had much of a choice. It took us a long time to get over what happened. That doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate what you did for us, I do—you came through when we needed it—so thanks.”

“You’re welcome. It was the least I could do. I know it’ll never be the same again.  Our paths diverged long ago and not on the best of terms.  I don’t expect that to change.  You’re free to live your life your way.  If you want an active role in the Alliance, you can talk to Sana-Rae in the Force enclave, but I’ll leave that to you.”

“Thanks, but I’ve devoted myself to my family.”

“I understand. Is there anything else you wish to address? I need to get back.”

“Yeah, there is one other thing. Kiran isn’t Force sensitive. He never will be. I don’t want to see him get hurt, so don’t encourage him or give him false hope.  It would crush him and make him feel like a failure. I don’t want that.”

“Neither do I. It won’t happen again.  You and Doc have done a nice job raising him.  I wouldn’t want to interfere.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I really do need to go.”

“Yeah…ok.  Good chat,” Kira muttered and gave her a head start back to the base.

 

*

Liatrix strode into the war room, her gaze panning the chamber.  “Lana—I’d like to take a few minutes to discuss Intelligence with you.”

The blonde backed away from the console and clasped her hands behind her back.  “What can I do for you, Commander?”

“I’ve always appreciated your insight and advice regarding daily operations, however, I think you’re a poor fit for Intelligence.  I want to restructure it and I’d like to have your input for a new Head of Alliance Intelligence.”

“Of course, Commander.  I’ll have a report to you at the earliest convenience.”

“This isn’t a demotion, I hope you understand that.  I would just prefer to utilize your strengths in an area better suited to your skill set.”

“Thank you, Commander.”

“Aw hell,” Jonas swore at his station.  “That’s not good.”

Liatrix and Lana drifted closer to him.  “What is it, Jonas?” Liatrix asked.

“Listen for yourself—breaking news on the holonet.”  He tapped his console giving rise to a presence—a nightmare personified—hoped to be forgotten but one that lingered in the most derelict and repressed corners of the mind that no blithe hope could completely drive away.

“I can’t believe it,” Lana hissed.

Liatrix grimaced.  “Let it play.”

Jonas nodded and turned up the volume to release the insidious voice.

“The Empire will no longer languish under the rule of absent emperors and pretenders—for I, Jadus, have returned to forge a new age—one which will elevate the praxis of the true Sith and strike terror in the hearts of the unworthy.”

((to be continued…))

 


	28. Chapter 28

  

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

 

  “Blast. That’s all we needed on top of everything else,” Lana fretted. “How did I _not_ see this coming?”

“None of us could’ve predicted _that_ ,” Jonas muttered giving the holo terminal a sharp side-eye. “I figured Jadus went down with the _Apocrypha_ seven years ago _._ ”

“You and I both. What are we going to do? We know what he’s capable of—if he’s allowed control over the Empire—I shudder to think what will become of it, let alone the galaxy.”

“Or us,” Jonas grumbled, ramming his hand through his hair. “You know he’s gonna be gunnin’ for us. You know that right?”

Liatrix drifted away from the pair, their voices fading and blending with the ambient whirr of the computers in the war room.

She would’ve given anything to feel the tingling awareness of a new threat, or the bubbling fury in her blood that came with plotting its destruction—both sensations effective whetstones to hone her passion into a potent weapon. Instead, there was only apathy—bleak, cold, and callous as the ice world, Hoth.

“Commander—how should we respond?” Lana whirled around, her eyes scanning for Liatrix. “Commander?”

Her tone requested duty and while Liatrix was unable to harness any feeling to provoke her passion, the sharp tang of reason was enough to stir her attention. “We don’t,” she replied. “At least, not yet.  Has there been any change in Nox’s condition? She needs to be told.”

“She regained consciousness earlier but remains in a weakened state physically. She’s expected to recover fully in a few days.  Should I brief her in regards to what’s happened?”

“No. Let her recover first.  I’m curious to see how Jadus will deal with the Eternal Empire.  I doubt he’ll be satisfied to rule a sector on lockdown. He might solve a few problems before he causes us any.  In the meantime, I want every bit of information on him you can get and I need to speak with Theron immediately.”

“I’ll start pulling up files,” Jonas offered. “Most of what we know, we learned while you were on ice.”

“Theron said he’d be in his quarters if he was needed,” Lana added.

“Thank you, both. We need to get on with our plans for Iokath—we’re going to need every advantage we can get.”

“Of course, Commander. I’ll begin putting together supplies and a crew for the mission.”

Liatrix’s gaze panned over the war room and while she could sense their worry and determination, she remained a blank slate, unable to share the fervor that drove them. She turned on her heel and left them behind, all the while suppressing the small panicked voice in her mind that screamed something was terribly wrong.

 

She hesitated outside Theron’s quarters, her fingers hovering over the door chime before she found the will to press it.  After the second ring, the door slid open and Theron stood before her, clad in the khaki t-shirt and dirt brown trousers that formed his everyday uniform.  “Hey.”

“Do you have a few minutes to talk? It’s not a bad time is it?”

“Not at all. C’mon in.”

His quarters were orderly save for the corner where he kept his computer station.  Files littered the surfaces and lengthy sheets of code streamed down the six monitors he had on the go.  Liatrix counted a dozen data spikes spread haphazardly over the adjoining table and correspondence from assets in various sectors.

“It feels like a lot’s happened since we last talked,” she said.

“A lot has.”  He scooped up his files from one of the chairs to free it up for her and with a flick of his remote, the constant data dribble on the monitors turned black.  “Been meaning to ask—are you okay?”

She shrugged her left shoulder.  “I’m surviving.”

“You look tired.” He busied himself preparing caf for them, his attention flitting in her direction as he worked.

“I haven’t been sleeping.”

“You haven’t been yourself since that mission,” he murmured. “We could’ve found another way.  It’s taken a toll on you—you’re different and I worry.”

“Everything comes with a price. It’s one less problem in the litter, that’s all that matters.  If it’s all the same, I’d rather not talk about it. Any progress with Iokath?”

“It looks good to go—Scorpio’s memory banks have been a huge help.  I sent the data to your personal station in your quarters. If I’d known you were coming, I’d have given it to you personally.”

“I’ll take a look at it later. We need to keep the pressure on. Vaylin has to die. I want to put an end to this Zakuulan nonsense once and for all.”

He stirred sweetener and milk into his cup and clanked the spoon against the rim. “I’m starting to wonder if that’s even possible. You’ve seen the holonet right?”

“Yeah, I saw.  Jadus—he’s the one dark council member I know next to nothing about.”

“He’s done a lot of unsettling things, and that’s saying something.” Theron set the mug of hot black caf in her hands.  His fingers brushed hers and he frowned.  “You’re freezing.”

“Am I?”  She clutched the mug, allowing the wisps of steam to warm her. “I hadn’t noticed.”

He set his mug aside and snatched his leather jacket off the sofa.  After shaking the wrinkles out of it, he hung it over her shoulders. “I also wanted to say, thanks.”

“For what?” Her eyes followed him over the rim of her cup as he settled into the cushioned chair across from her.  A mix of citrus and soap and something else that was uniquely him that she couldn’t identify was trapped in the warmth still lining his jacket. The familiar smell bedimmed her gaze with a flood of nostalgia, the sensation fleeting before the cold tamped it out again.  

“What Malcolm did all those years ago was unforgivable.” He looked down as if the throw rug held answers in its weave. “I get that—and it makes me appreciate what you did all the more. He and I—we’ll never be close, not after that, but they’re gonna need him. The Republic is reeling right now.”

“We all are.  That’s why it’s so important to get schematics for the Omni-cannon and its power source—and whatever else we can get.”

“Looks like we’ll have all that and more once we hit Iokath. The Mandalorians have thrown their support behind us and Gault and his team are helping to keep funds rolling in.”

“Good. I can’t wait to take Zakuul apart—piece by _bloody_ piece,” she said bitterly, her eyes darkening as she thought on the astronomy tower and the spire where her father died. “Even if it takes years, I want it gone—all of it—anything to do with Valkorion and his hideous family.”

“Where do you see things going after it’s all over?”

“Master Orgus asked me something similar once, on Rishi as a matter of fact,” she began thoughtfully. “My answer is the same now as it was then. There will always be pain and struggle.  It’ll _never_ be over.” 

“Well, that’s a pretty grim view of things.”

“Maybe it’ll be different if I get a firm grip on the galaxy—but maybe not even then. There’s always someone who wants what you’ve got.”

Theron eyes softened and grew sad. “Is that what you really want? To be emperor? I always got the vibe that you were trying to live up to someone else’s expectations—my mother’s, your father’s and then Scourge’s. I want to know what _you_ want.”

“What I want,” she said, gazing down wistfully at her cup, her dreams dissipating with the curls of steam rising from within, “is irrelevant. All I can do now is finish this.  I don’t see anything beyond an ending. The more I try to deny it, the clearer it becomes that this is what my life has been leading up to.” 

“When did you become such a fatalist?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know—but I’m starting to think I was foolish to ever believe I could fight destiny.”

“You’re too young to give up on the life you want. It can still happen. Think back to a simpler time—what did you want then?”

Thoughts of a lush world with glittering lakes and forests, a waterfront home surrounded by gardens and children materialized in her mind just long enough to wound before evaporating.

Her breath caught in her throat and hardened her voice. “If there were simpler times, I’ve forgotten them.” She tossed him a skeptical smile. “And where do you see yourself when this is all over?”

“Oh, I dunno.” He smiled and gave her a coy side-eye. “Depends on what happens and how persuasive a certain Commander can be?”

“There’s no point planning for days that may never come.” She took another mouthful of caf and they sat in silence for what felt like a long time.

“Theron?”

“Hmm?

“There’s something else I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“If it’s my recipe for ‘Sex on a Rancor,’ I’m afraid that’s classified,” he teased. 

She stared at him blankly.

“Wow, not even a smile,” he mumbled sadly. “That used to crack you up.”

“I guess, I’m not one for laughing these days.”  She traced the rim of her cup, toying with the cool earthenware.  “You’re the only one I trust. I want you to be my spymaster—oversee everything. Please?” She glanced up, trapping his gaze with her own.

About to sip from his mug, he stopped and lowered it cautiously.  “Are you sure relieving Lana was the right thing?”

“She’s not suited for it—be honest, she never was. Even as early as Ziost I saw her difficulties. She’s an advisor and a coordinator—not a spy. Hell, she couldn’t spot a traitor at ten paces. You did the jagulor’s share of the work on Rishi and Yavin—Ziost too.”

“Some might argue I was the cause of Ziost’s problems.”

“You weren’t. If it wasn’t for you, things would’ve gone a lot differently.”

“I like to think of all that as a team effort. Cipher Nine would’ve been a good candidate too, where ever she may be now—and her being an Imperial—it would’ve made sense.”

“The only candidate that makes sense to me, is _you_.  The Republic didn’t give you the respect you deserved.  Neither did the Empire.  But the Alliance would… _I_ respect you and trust you.  I want you to do this.  Please?”

Theron heaved a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Remember on Yavin when you said you were more at home being a fake pirate and a spy than you ever were meditating in a temple?”

“Feels like a million years ago, but yeah.” She looked down, searching the rug’s multi-coloured pattern for answers.

He scooted off the edge of his chair and took a knee before her, encircling her hands with his own. “Don’t make me meditate in a temple, Lia.  I don’t belong there any more than you do. Fieldwork—that’s where I can help most.”

“And there’s the answer to the question I asked you before. You’re a spy first and you’d chafe at anything else.” She lowered her gaze and canted her head away from him.

“That’s not fair. It’s not the same thing and you know it.”

 “Isn’t it?”

“Sometimes, I look at you—and I feel like I’m talking to a stranger. It’s like I don’t know how to reach you anymore. _Talk_ to me.”

“About what?”

“Your feelings—something… _anything_ ,” he coaxed.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t…”

“I can’t—because,” she whispered and averted her gaze.

“Is it Scourge?”

“No,” she snapped. “We’ve barely spoken.”

“Then what is it? What can’t you tell me?”

“I can’t tell you anything because I don’t _feel_ anything.”

He took the empty mug from her hands and set it aside and drew her against him. “You’re so cold,” he whispered and ran his hands over her back and shoulders hoping to rub some warmth into her.  “Have you spoken to anyone about what you’re going through?”

“No. I need to finish what I’ve started.”

“You will—but not like this.  You need help.”

“There’s nothing anyone can do. I have to get a replacement for Lana and if you won’t do it—maybe Jonas will.” She broke away from him and stood to take her leave.

“I’m sure he’ll accept.  It’s what he’s always wanted and I think he’d be good at it, for what it’s worth.”

She hesitated by the door. “You’ll join me on Iokath, won’t you?”

“Yeah.  I’ll be there.”  He clasped her elbow to keep her from leaving. “Think about what I said—you don’t have to go through this alone.”

She slipped his jacket off her shoulders and thrust it back at him.  “It won’t help.”

“Take it.” He refused the jacket and urged it back into her arms and kept his gaze locked on hers. His brow twitched but he didn’t dare look away.

“Some things can’t be saved, Theron.” She clasped his forearm and gave it a squeeze before starting down the corridor for the war room.

“Maybe I believe in lost causes,” he murmured after her.

 

*

 

Jonas pored over a stack of files in the war room, his mug of caf trapped in his grip, halfway between his desk’s surface and his mouth. A star chart to Iokath flickered on his monitor as pertinent intel scrolled up beneath.  Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he spun his chair about to face Liatrix as she approached.  “Hey—didn’t expect to see you back so soon. Got those files you wanted.”

“Thanks.  I’ll take them before I go, but there’s something I want to run past you.”

“Okay shoot.”

“Would you be interested in being the Alliance’s spymaster? You’re more than qualified. I know you’d do a great job.”

His gaze fell on the wine-coloured leather jacket folded over her arm. “Theron said no, didn’t he?”

“I won’t lie—but he did recommend the best man for the job—you—assuming you’re interested.”

“Hell yeah, I’m interested. It’s something I’ve been thinking about since my SIS days on Nar Shaddaa. You can count on me. I’ll make The Shroud look like a wad of used-up tissue.”  He took a sip of his coffee and winced at the cold bitter taste.

“I’m glad you’re happy. Congratulations.”  She offered her hand to shake and he accepted.

“I appreciate the chance.” He recoiled at her icy touch. “Think we might need to check the climate controls in here,” he commented idly. “I know things haven’t always been easy for us, but I’ve hit restart and so far, things seem to be goin’ my way.”

“I’m glad. You deserve to be happy.”

“I miss our chats—maybe we could grab a drink, catch up some time,” he offered.

“We’ll see. We’ve got a war to win—I need to end this, once and for all.”

“Don’t you worry, we’ll come out on top. You’ll see.” He favored her with an exaggerated wink.

“I hope you’re right.” Liatrix collected the stack of datapads he’d pulled and started out.  “Enjoy the challenge.”

“You know I will.” He watched her until she disappeared from sight and pumped his fist victoriously. “Yes!” he exclaimed, beaming from ear to ear.

“You look as pleased as a Corellian sand panther after a kill. Having a good day m’boy?”  Darmas sidled up next to him and clapped his shoulder.

“Yeah, you could say that.  You just happen to be lookin’ at the Alliance’s new spymaster.”

“That’s excellent news, m’boy. Didn’t I say it? Stick with the old man and you’ll be goin’ places.”

Jonas withdrew from his father’s hold and his smile faded. “I’m still gonna be keeping my eyes on you.”

Darmas glanced at Jonas’s monitor and grinned. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, m’boy. Looks like you’ve got your hands full. I’ll leave you to it,” he said and sauntered out.

 

*

 

Andronikos flipped the chair next to Nox’s bed and straddled it.  He waited for his presence to wake her like it did most times, but when she didn’t, he clamped her shoulder and gave her a shake.  “Sith—wake up.”

Her brows puckered and her dark rosebud lips twisted in annoyance.  “Go away. Can’t you see I’m sleeping?”

“Hmph. Not anymore. Get up.”

Her eyes fluttered open and she glared at him with vipery grey eyes. “This had better be good. You _know_ I’m not a morning person.”

“It’s five o’clock in the afternoon.”

“It’s morning if _I_ say it’s morning,” she said petulantly and sat up, rubbing the grainy sleep from her eyes. “And unless you’re here to feed me Krayt bacon and tell me I’m a bad girl—out with it.”

“Just pipe down and listen, this is serious. Just heard on the holonet—Jadus has taken over _your_ empire.”

“He what?” She howled and sat up straighter, eyes flashing alert. “That son of a Hutt. I’m going to kill him.”

“Hmph, yeah, that’s what I figured you’d say. Already got us packed up, so let’s get off this rock and double-time it back to Dromund Kaas.”

Her eyes narrowed as she took the clothing he offered her. “Not yet.  I have a couple of pit stops to make first.”

“You’re not gonna let him get away with this, are you?”

“Of course not. But we’re hardly in a position to charge in heedlessly either.  We’re going to Nar Shaddaa first.  There’s someone I need to find—to help us get our ducks in a row.”

“Whatever you say, Sith.”

 

((to be continued…))

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	29. Chapter 29

  

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

 

Theron Shan braced himself and raised his fist to the door for the third time in as many minutes.  The door was like every other on the base, made of thick, molded durasteel and served to keep others out.

He’d always treated doors in one of two ways; as a challenge or an opportunity, but this door was different—this door didn’t merely deny access to the room or its occupant, but would serve to prise apart the protective shell he’d spent years building and expose the vulnerabilities he harbored within.

To complicate matters further, his confession wouldn’t be to a friend or ally, but an adversary—one that had tried to kill him—and perhaps the only one who could help.

Before his knuckles could connect with the metal surface, the door flew open and Theron stood in the occupant’s massive shadow, his fist hanging in the air before dropping it almost immediately.

“Your hesitation was starting to annoy.” Lord Scourge glared at the agent like a particularly bothersome insect he wanted to pluck apart limb by limb. “What do you want, Shan?”

“A few moments of your time—I need to talk to you.”

“I have nothing to say to you, _spy_.”

“All right.  Then just listen. You have to know I didn’t make the decision to come here lightly. It’s important—and I’d rather not discuss it out here,” Theron said, gesturing at the corridor.

Scourge’s jaw clenched and the way he receded into his quarters reminded Theron of a colossal spider skulking back to the hub of its web after one of its viscid threads had been tweaked.

He took the abandoned doorway as an invitation and went inside.  A brazier of twisting flame served as both light and heat, effectively transforming the utilitarian quarters into a primal sanctum. A dim red holocron sat on the low table before the chesterfield.

The air was bitter and dry, and the crackling fire made Scourge’s trenchant and unwavering gaze all the more disconcerting.  It was like having an audience with the devil himself.

“Say what you came to say,” Scourge said, folding his arms.

“It’s about Liatrix—I’m worried about her.  She’s not the same woman, she’s changed somehow—and before you argue that it’s an effect of time or war or loss—it’s _more_ than that. Whatever’s happening to her is turning her into a stranger. She’s detached and cold and it’s getting more noticeable by the day,” he said shaking his head. “Tell me you’ve noticed, that it’s not just me.”

“I am estranged from my wife—we have spent more time apart than together, we barely speak. Just what is it you expect from me?”

“I don’t know.” Theron paced and spread his hands. “All I know is that something needs to be done, or we’ll lose her.  I don’t have to be a Force user to know there’s no going back from this—whatever _this_ is.”

Scourge watched Theron through the heat shimmering above the fire. “What is your relationship with my wife? Are you lovers?”

“No.” Theron frowned. “I won’t lie. We’re close. I _love_ her. I want more—we talk, she confides in me, but that’s all.”

“And yet she hasn’t confided in you about this. Why do you suppose that is?”

Theron plopped down on the short chesterfield in the sitting area, his hands hanging between his knees.  “Maybe she doesn’t realize it’s happening—then again, it’s not like I’ve sat her down and said, ‘oh, hey, any idea why you feel like a block of ice when I touch you?’”

Scourge’s hands curled into fists, the sound of his popping knuckles competing with the snap of the coals in the brazier.  “Has she been this way since she was freed from carbonite?”

“You know about that.”

“Spies are not the only ones capable of extracting information when it suits them.”

“I guess I’m a little surprised you’d bother.”

“You shouldn’t be. She is _my_ wife.”

“So you know about Valkorion sharing real estate with her.”

“I am aware.”

“Could _he_ be responsible?”

“Indirectly, perhaps. I’ve spent three hundred years in lockstep with my Lord Emperor. If he were exerting his influence over her—if he were still present, I would have sensed it and I have not.”

“You think he’s moved on?”

“Perhaps fully possessing her has proven too great of a drain on his power.  Liatrix is nothing if not tenacious—persistently so. Controlling her may have proven impossible and we’d be fools to believe my Lord Emperor wouldn’t have made contingency plans.”

“What sort of plans?”

“The Emperor has always had safeguards in place to protect his true essence and his immortality—his Voice, his Hand, his Will, the children he created, the clones—they were all little more than possible repositories for his being.

“In keeping Liatrix as his sole vessel, he endangers his own survival. Without the ability to replenish his power as he desires, his supply would rapidly diminish and if she were killed he would have no anchor to this plane. The remainder of his power would evaporate and he would, at last, die.”

“Wasn’t Lia his Will at one point? When she was captured after the raid on the Emperor’s fortress?”

“Indeed—undoubtedly one reason he was able to forge such a connection with her so easily after Valkorion’s death.”

“So, the Emperor is technically _not_ Valkorion?”

“No. Only one of many shells he has occupied over the millennia.”

“If you don’t think it's him—what could be causing the changes?”

Scourge’s eyes narrowed and darkened.  “Has she never spoken to you of her ancestor Tulak Hord?”

“No—but he’s been dead for thousands of years.”

“Physically—but his essence persists—in the form of a demon.”

“You Sith and your ghosts. I guess there really is no death, only the Force,” Theron muttered.

“Unlike the Jedi, passion compels many of us to extend our lives through arcane methods.”

“So—Hord is possessing her too?”

“No—he is connected to his descendants through their blood. They maintain their own will and desires, but if they were to bargain with him, or draw from the innate well of power that defines the Hord line, a cost is exacted.”

“Is that what you think could be happening? Has Liatrix borrowed from his power or bargained with him?”

“I doubt she would be so foolish as to bargain with him, but like her father, it’s entirely possible she drew upon Hord’s power if the war—if victory—called for it.  The coldness you’ve experienced is a product of complete immersion in the dark side.”

“Dammit,” Theron grunted and rammed his hand through his hair. “She’s done so much for the Alliance—I never realized what it might be doing to her.  Tell me there’s a way to help her.”

“I don’t know that I can.”  Scourge stared into the flames and twisted his left tendril ring.  “It may already be too late.  She may well suffer the same fate as her father.”

Theron’s brows puckered and his lips turned down miserably. “Something has to be done—I can’t reach her, but maybe _you_ can,” he conceded.

“You realize in coming to me, you risk losing her to me.”

“Better that, than to risk losing who she is completely—I don’t think I could bear _that_.”

“You truly love her.  You poor fool, I almost pity you.”

“The way you say that—don’t _you_?”

Scourge snorted. “That I say it, means I recognize the disease in another.  It’s time you left.”

“Will you talk to her—do something?”

“I will do what I can, but I make no promises—it may take something far greater than either of us to save her _if_ she can be saved at all.  Now get out.” Scourge’s last words were laced with the deep and palpable hatred that came with recognizing a genuine rival. 

Theron looked meaningfully at the Sith and left quickly. His eyes burned and grew bleary and his breathing united in a forlorn sigh that not even the resigned beats fuelling his heart could silence.

 

*

 

Andronikos supervised the droids loading the final skids of supply crates aboard the _Sky Princess II._

“That should just about wrap it up then,” he muttered to himself and ambled to the edge of the landing pad to take in the evergreen vista and one of the last deep breaths of fresh air he’d likely know for quite a while.

“So, Captain Revel—I take it you’ve heard about Jadus—and you’ve decided to leave us,” Liatrix called out as she approached.

“Looks that way. Not bein’ ungrateful for all you’ve done, but once she’s got her mind made up, heh, there’s no stoppin’ her.”

“I take it she’s aboard resting?”

“Yeah. She’s gonna need everything she’s got.”

“It’s a shame to lose you both.  I wish you’d reconsider, you’re good in a fight—maybe we could help each other.”

“Maybe we still can—nothing’s carved in durasteel, but for right now, Nox has a few matters that need sortin’ out.  We’ll make better allies, once we get back what was taken from us.”

“I understand. If things don’t work out, know that you’re welcome to come back—that goes for both of you.  My father considered Darth Nox an ally and so do I.”

“Thanks, Commander, ‘preciate it.”

After they’d exchanged handshakes, Andronikos boarded the _Sky Princess II_ and went to his quarters. Nox lay sprawled across the compact double bed, studying the plans she’d made on her datapad. She glanced up at the darkened doorway where he stood.  “Well?”

“Looks like we’re all set. We’re cleared for take-off. You sure you still wanna do this, Sith?”

“Absolutely—I have the meeting arranged and everything.”

“A’right then.  Nar Shaddaa here we come.  I sure hope you find whatever it is you’re lookin’ for.”  He didn’t wait for her to answer or dismiss him and sauntered into the cockpit.

 

 

*

 

Jonas waited until Lana had dispatched the crowd of droids, smugglers, and technicians with their latest orders in preparation for the raid on Iokath.

His approach was more cautious than casual and her pale yellow gaze fixed on him, almost knowingly.

“I’d like it if we could talk.  Got a few minutes?”  Jonas began.

“It seems you’ve caught me between briefings, shall we?” She said, indicating her office.

He sauntered into the small chamber and she closed the door behind them. 

“Have a seat—I think I have some idea what this may be about,” she said, taking her place behind the desk.

“Yeah, it’s been a long time coming,” he said looking down at his hands.

“Yes, I agree, it has.  With so much happening, it’s been easy to put it off and doing so isn’t fair to either of us.  I think we can agree on what needs to happen next.”

“Yeah.”

“I just wanted to say—you look good—you look _well_ , for the first time in a long time.  I think our time apart has been of benefit to you, and that pleases me,” Lana said.  “And whether you wish to acknowledge it or not, your father has been a positive influence on you as well.”

“And I think getting you out of Intelligence was a good move too,” Jonas scoffed.

“I’d like to end things between us amicably if that’s possible—and yes, I welcome the change, in case you were wondering.  Spycraft was never my forte and returning to my former responsibilities has been a comfort.”

“Sorry—didn’t mean anything by it, except that you don’t know my old man like I do.  Keep your eyes on him, _always_.”

“Your advice is noted.  So that’s it then…it’s finished?”

“Yeah.  It’s done.  Best thing for both of us,” Jonas said.

“I agree—though I am curious, have you met someone else?”

“Nope—just sorting things out, staying on top of work.  You?”

“No, but I would prefer to have matter resolved.  One less burden.”

Jonas stood and started for the door.  “Yeah, one less burden.”

Lana rose and met him at the door.  “I will always respect you and think of our time together fondly.  I hope you can do the same.”

“You know it, Frosty,” Jonas murmured and stooped to kiss her cheek.  “If you ever need anything…”

“I’ll be sure to call Theron.”

“Good woman,” Jonas deadpanned. 

“Good-bye, Jonas,” Lana murmured as he swung the door closed behind him.

 

 

((to be continued…))


	30. Chapter 30

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Thirty**

 

 

One of the See-Two units replenished Jonas’s supply of caf while he stood hunched over his workstation. 

After the droid left, Darmas sauntered into the deserted war room and pulled up a chair next to Jonas. “Look at you m’boy, burning the midnight oil.  I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

Jonas rubbed the fatigue from his eyes.  “Is there a reason you’re here? I’m kinda busy.”

Before Jonas could refuse, Darmas poured caf for them from the chrome carafe the serving droid had left behind.  “Looks to me like you could use a break.” 

“I really need to get this done.”

“Go on, take a breather,” he drawled and reached inside his jacket. “You’re the boss now—I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Jonas eyed the burnished silver flask Darmas extracted from his inside breast pocket, involuntarily licking his lips.

“Thought I’d bring a little something extra given the hour—we never did get to enjoy our celebratory drink.”

“Mmm, s’pose you’re right. These readouts aren’t goin’ anywhere. How Theron stares at this stuff for hours on end—is beyond me.”

Darmas dismissed the comment with a backhanded wave and tipped a splash of liquid first into Jonas’s mug and then into his own. “Finest Corellian brandy money can buy.”

“Cheers.” Jonas held his mug aloft and took a swig. “Seems a shame to cut it with caf.”

“Can’t have you nodding off on the job, now can we?”

“S’pose not,” Jonas said, taking another eager sip.

“So—I trust the usual suspects are en route to Iokath?”

“Yeah—should be there by tomorrow I reckon.”

“So you think this planet will give the Alliance the edge it needs?”

“Sure looks that way,” Jonas murmured and pinched the bridge of his nose and gave his head a shake.

“How’s it feel, now that you’re in charge?”

“Not quite what I expected. If I’d known being in charge meant _more_ work, I might’ve refused.”

“Clearly you need to learn the art of delegation. But not to worry, you’ll get the hang of it. First few weeks are always the toughest.”  Darmas’s brows puckered intently, his gaze fixed on his son. “You seem a bit down, truth be told.”

“Not really, just had to do something I was puttin’ off. I called it quits with Lana.”

“You took my advice.”

“I didn’t do it because of you.  I did it because it was over. We were just kiddin’ ourselves—neither one of us is cut out for domestic bliss.”

“Now you can put your focus back where it belongs—on your future. How’s life on the straight and narrow?”

Jonas drained his mug and leaned back in his chair. “Not easy. Still get pangs,” he mumbled through a yawn, his eyelids as heavy as anchors.

“They’re called deathsticks for a reason, m’boy.  For what it’s worth, you’ve been looking sharper.”

Jonas’s empty mug dangled from his knuckle. “Not feelin’ too damn sharp right now.”

“Why don’t you go ahead, call it a night? I’ll get out of your hair, let you finish up.”

“Mmm—right.”  Jonas’s eyes closed and his head lolled forward.

Darmas watched him like a starving wrist-hawk until a faint snore rumbled from the back of his throat. When the snap of his fingers failed to rouse him, Darmas dumped his own barely touched caf and rescued Jonas’s mug before it clattered to the floor.

After making a few adjustments to the security cams, he sliced into Theron’s workstation.

His gaze narrowed as he committed the access codes to memory and with a few deft taps, an encrypted copy of all pertinent intelligence regarding Iokath was on its way to Supreme Commander Jace Malcolm.

_Perfect. If luck’s on my side, I should be able to slingshot two bog wings with one stone._

After erasing all signs of his tampering, he powered down Jonas’s station and coaxed him awake with some effort.  “You’re more tired than you were letting on.”

“What happened?”

“You nodded off on me, m’boy. C’mon. Let’s get you back to your quarters.”

“Hmm. Sounds like a plan,” Jonas mumbled.

 

*

 

           

Neon dancers gyrated around neon poles and the cackling riff of a kloo pealed through the recycled Nar Shaddaa air holding the world together like an adhesive.

“Hmm. Good to see some things never change,” Andronikos muttered as he navigated the crowds and flashing lights. You know where you’re goin’ right?”

Nox stopped to get her bearings. “I do—but I can’t explain it—I’m being led.”

“Right by the nose, if you ask me. How d’you know this is on the up and up?”

“I just know. Look if you’re going to be complete lunkhead, why don’t you find yourself a bottle and a booth and I’ll join you when I’m finished?”

“Not on your life, Sith.”

“Remember, _you_ insisted.” Nox wove through the club until the music faded along with the lights.  “This is it. We’ll find him here.”

“A part of me hopes he tries somethin’.  Been dying to put a blaster hole through someone’s skull, before I forget how.”

“I’m sure you’ll get your chance _eventually_.”

The heavy black lacquered doors parted and Nox was greeted by a gleaming silver protocol droid.  “I am M4-1M at your service—and you are Empress Nox of the Sith Empire, I presume?” 

“You presume correctly. Your master is expecting me.”

“Of course he is, right this way.”

The pale man stood behind the polished obsidian island that functioned as his desk, his back to the door, hands clasped behind his back, giving him a crisp authoritative silhouette.

“Master, may I present, Empress Nox of the Sith Empire.”

“That’ll be all M4-1M.  Kindly close the doors behind you.”

The office was paneled with rich dark wood and furnished with supple leather furniture. A trophy of a rancor’s head with all of its teeth in full bloom hung over the fireplace mantel.  

Andronikos whistled low. “Quite a place you got here—Mister—sorry didn’t get yer name.”

“Nor I, yours.”

“My pilot, Captain Revel,” Nox announced. “I realize you expected me alone, but I assure you, the Captain and I are of one mind and we have no secrets from each other.”

 A scythe-shaped smile bridged the man’s razor-sharp cheekbones. “You may call me Solitaire. Please take a seat. Would you care for tea?”

“I appreciate your hospitality, but I don’t wish to linger any longer than I have to.  I need to find Darth Fernal and I was led to believe you’d know her whereabouts.  Point me in her direction, and we’ll be on our way.”

“Direct and to the point, just as I would prefer it. Darth Fernal is here for the annual slave auction, hosted by the mighty Grugga the Hutt. I took the liberty of procuring an invitation.”

Nox eyed the lavish card after accepting it. “I was told Darth Fernal has been missing for years assuming she survived the encounter with the Eternal Empire.”

“Some might say she’s still missing,” Solitaire said ominously. “I think you’ll understand when you see her.”

“Is she here alone?”

“She’s accompanied by a pair of _digits_ if you take my meaning.”

“I do,” Nox said frowning.

“I can have M4-1M deliver you and your man to the auction.”

“That would be lovely,” Nox purred.

“Before we part company, I require something in return for my assistance.”

“And what would that be?”

“I require the coordinates to a world known as Odessen,” he said presenting her his datapad.

“Odessen…” Nox tapped the talon crowning her index finger against her chin. “Let me think.”

“Don’t waste my time playing coy. The coordinates. _Please_.”

“Very well.”

Andronikos snatched her wrist before she could accept the proffered device and turned her away from Solitaire. “You’re serious right now. You’re going to sell them out,” he growled under his breath.

“Why yes, as a matter of fact, I am.”

“Problem?” Solitaire clipped and folded his arms.

“None whatsoever.”  She finished imputing the coordinates.  “There you are. Feel free to check them against your star charts.  You’ll find them to be in order, though I am curious what you mean to do with them.”

“Excellent,” he eyed the data and nodded.  “My business is my own, but will in no way interfere with yours.”

“Works for me, it’s been a pleasure, Solitaire. Perhaps we’ll meet again.”

“Perhaps,” he said, icily.

“Can we get outta here now?” Andronikos snarled through gnashed teeth.

Nox arched an eyebrow at him and he released her, his fingermarks pale divots on her flesh.

“Lead the way, Captain.”

 

Less than an hour later, Nox and Andronikos emerged from Solitaire’s chauffeured limousine. The crowd surrounding the auction center was thick, but a wide scarlet runner, heavily protected by Grugga’s security kept the path clear for the VIPs.

Nox passed her invitation to the event herald and sauntered toward the rows of elegant throne-like chairs assembled for the attendees.

“I don’t like this, Sith.”

“No more than I do, but I need her blood, and I mean to get it.”

“This is really important to you then.”

“Yes, and I need you by my side.”

“This may well be the craziest stunt you’ve pulled yet. Those Hand guys don’t fool around. You _know_ that—and how much you wanna bet they know what you tried to pull on Nathema, huh?”

“Oh stop. Just sit down and try not to twitch. I don’t want to end up buying anything by mistake.”

“Hmph. Have it your way.” Andronikos folded his arms and plunked down on one of the thrones.

She settled next to him and leaned in to whisper, “You’re adorable when you pout.”

“I’m not above shooting you right now.”

Nox smirked and watched the other attendees filter in and take their seats.  Darth Fernal, clad head to toe in black armor sat in the center of the first row flanked by a pair of scarlet-robed and masked guards, Nox recognized as the Emperor’s elite guard. If the power radiating from the Emperor’s Wrath wasn’t terrifyingly demonic enough, the two fluted antlers curving over her ebony helmet gave her the appearance of one personified.

 

Three hours later, the Togruta auctioneer announced the final lot.  Until now, the Wrath and her men remained as still as statues. 

A pair of Grugga’s men escorted a small boy onto the stage, his wrists weighted with stun cuffs. The child was no more than seven years old at most, with unruly brown hair that appeared to have been licked by a nerf.  Even from where Nox sat, she could make out that the boy’s eyes were a peculiar and familiar shade of gold she’d seen in someone recently, but couldn’t place who at that moment.

The bidding started at forty million credits and after a bevy of raised hands, the figure soon swelled to a billion.

For the first time in her life, Nox twitched and shook inside, goose pimples rashing her skin. She raised her hand and the auctioneer announced her bid, “Two billion.”

Fernal’s rage flooded the bay of thrones in torrents of white-hot fury.  She raised her hand to counter the bid and no other dared to raise their hand against hers.

No other except Nox. “Three billion.”

“Ten billion.”

“Fifteen.”

On and on the bidding war went until the final number settled on thirty billion, issued by the Wrath.

Andronikos gripped the armrests of his throne, his face ashen.

The boy collapsed to his knees on the stage.  Panicked by his sudden drop, Grugga’s men turned their blaster rifles on him.

The air surrounding the child shimmered and the muzzles of the guards’ weapons began to melt, dripping molten metal onto the stage. The guards collapsed and writhed in agony.

Nox stood. “Thirty-five billion.”

Fernal whirled on her. “Enough. The boy is _mine_. What is it you want? I know you don’t want _him_. I can sense it.”

“Your blood. A phial of it, that’s all. Darth Vowrawn was a friend of yours. He helped you and he was my husband.”

“My blood? Why?” Fernal scoffed.

“Because you’re his granddaughter. I need it to bring him back. He was killed.”

“What?” The demonic helm shook incredulously. “He told you this? When did he die? How?”

“He never got the chance to tell me himself, he was killed—but the spirit of Tulak Hord told me so that I would be able to bring him back. I won’t say any more until we can speak in private.”

The auctioneer called out, “Thirty-five billion, going once, going twice…”

“Withdraw your bid and you’ll have your blood,” Fernal commanded.”

Nox threw up her hand. “I withdraw my bid.  Withdrawn!”

Andronikos mopped the sweat from his brow and pushed out a deep breath.

“Sold to Darth Fernal for thirty billion—the highest bid ever paid for a slave.”

“Subdue the boy, prepare him for transport,” Fernal barked at the guards flanking her.

The elite guards left and the crowd dispersed, most heading for the table filled with rare delicacies and drink.

“Make it quick, Nox. How did Vowrawn die?”

“A temple caved in on him—on Nathema.”

“Why would you go there?” Fernal said in a low voice.

“We were there, hoping to trade Lord Scourge for you. We were told the Hand had you captive and Vowrawn insisted on doing whatever he had to, to set you free. Instead, we encountered Valkorion’s essence. He killed Vowrawn.”

“I see,” Fernal murmured. She removed the glove on her left hand and with a small dagger she kept hidden in her armor, she made an incision across her palm.

“Andronikos—the phial.” 

He passed the thin transparisteel tube to her and she filled it with the blood pooling in Fernal’s cupped hand.

“For whatever it’s worth, Malavai Quinn is on Odessen—a general for the Alliance,” Nox whispered. “He’s been working with them in the hope of finding you.”

“I wish I could tell him,” Fernal began, “how much I miss him.”

“You could go to him. I could tell you how.”

“I can’t. I can’t risk endangering him. My life…such as it is, is no longer my own.  However, I hope to remedy that,” she said, her gaze touching on the unconscious boy as the guards hauled him away.

“Is that the child’s purpose?” Nox asked. “Who is he? Is he one of the Emperor’s children? Or a new voice? A new vessel?”

“I’ve already said too much. Take the blood. Leave before you’re discovered.”

Nox took the phial and started for the exit.

Fernal called after her, “Tell Vowrawn—should you ever see him again—tell him I wish I’d known the truth.”

“I will,” Nox replied before disappearing into the crowd.

 

*

 

The pale man paced before his holo console as the image of his assassin droid and servant rose from the center of the unit.  “This is LQ-D8, receiving transmission, Master.”

“I’m sending you the coordinates to Odessen.  Our search is over.  Do find the good Doctor and see to it he comes good on our arrangement. I’ve waited far too long. A new name, a new face, these should be enough...”

“Acknowledged, Master.”

 

((to be continued…))


	31. Chapter 31

   

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Thirty-One**

 

The machines had gone silent, but that didn’t mean they had gone away.  They lurked in the shadows—in darkened doorways and niches, watching, studying and learning—calculating the most efficient way to kill their prey before considering more sporting and creative methods. 

Like any living being alone for too long, the machines had grown mad and like any intelligent being deprived of stimulation, they’d grown bored.  Insanity coupled with boredom made for a lethal mix.

Wedged between a wall and an inactive generator, Liatrix peered out at the world the machines had built.  The metropolis was as impressive as Coruscant or Dromund Kaas or any city she’d seen but without a warm hand guiding its creation, the city lacked the artistry and colour that biologicals needed as much as air.

No living being had walked among the machines for a very long time and Liatrix suspected the last one to do so had died painfully in one of the throne-like devices she’d encountered while searching for the others.

Three days had passed since they’d entered orbit with the _Gravestone_.  Iokath was a shell of a world and the metropolis was its yoke.  On the way inside, a mysterious power seized control of the shuttle and she woke alone on the world’s surface. 

A small endearing probe lured her deeper into the construct where death roamed freely and even the most innocuous looking item could spell the end.  Since her awakening, she hadn’t seen any sign that Theron, Lana, Torian or Vette had survived or perished. She didn’t know if they were forced to play survival games with the machines like she had to or if they’d managed to get away from Iokath without her.

Her stomach growled and she crammed the last quarter of her ration bar into her mouth. The grainy square soaked up what little moisture lingered in her mouth. Thirst was becoming a problem. Dizzy spells would come and go and some hours had passed since she’d last relieved herself and when she did the urine was much darker than she was used to seeing. Her skin itched and felt as if it were dusted with powder.  She longed for the rains on Dromund Kaas, where water was readily available and getting a drink in the wilds was just a matter of tipping a large leaf to one’s lips. 

Here, everything was dry. The air smelled faintly of metallic dust and berries—the same as the smell in space, but the atmosphere was suitable for breathing and she caught herself wondering if the machines had arranged that too and how long before they realized a slight change in composition would end them.

 _I can’t stay in hiding forever_ , she thought.  Her lightsaber felt uncharacteristically heavy against her palm—a sign she was growing weaker.  She closed her eyes and drew on the Force using it to bolster her physical and mental well-being to keep it from dwindling further.

The silence unnerved her, but she took a chance and wriggled out from behind the generator, staying low in case any observer droids remained nearby.  The path ahead was laid out like a labyrinth and she wondered what would lie at the center.  A sound caught her attention and she froze to listen.

The beat was uneven, faint and she decided it was the sound of footfalls jogging somewhere ahead.  She reached out with the Force and the identity of the one making the sound came to her in a welcome wave of awareness.

“Theron!” she called. Her voice cracked and the sound felt foreign after so much silence.

“Lia? Hey! Follow my voice. I know a way out.”

Minutes later his arms clamped around her, holding her tight.  “I was afraid I’d lost you. Are you hurt?”

“I’m all right. Tired. Damn machines had me playing wargames.”  She pulled out of his embrace and looked him over.  “What about you?”

“Starving, thirsty as hell, but nothing that won’t wait a little longer.”

“Where are the others? Have you seen anyone else?”

“They’re with the ship. Everyone’s okay. Vette and Torian got a bit banged up, but they’ll be fine. We figured out how to break free from the tractor pulse and the shuttle’s engines are back online.  We just need to emit the same frequency as the machines to avoid their sensors—if they think we’re one of them, they won’t attack us. Here put this on—it’s something I managed to rig together to fool them.”

She took the chrono he offered and slipped it over her wrist.  “We’ll be lucky if we get out of here in one piece, never mind finding anything of use.”

“Actually, I do have some good news about that.  We found several crates of high yield explosives and I managed to slice into the mainframe here and pulled some schematics I think we can use, so it’s not a complete bust. Torian loaded the cargo hold with as much as we can carry.”

“At least our trip wasn’t for nothing.”

“It’s not over yet.  We have to find our way back out of the sphere, preferably without triggering those explosives.  We won’t even be a stain if they go off.”

“Let’s get out of here before they start wondering where we went.”

“Agreed,” Theron said.

The sound of a blaster cocking announced the presence of a newcomer—one that wasn’t a machine. Liatrix and Theron whirled around, their eyes wide.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Theron asked.

Jace Malcom stood behind the extended blaster, fresh cuts and burns marring decades of old scars. “You’re not going anywhere. Surrender.  Theron, step away from that tyrant.”

Theron drew his blaster in kind. “The hell I will.”

Liatrix set her hand on Theron’s arm. “Don’t kill him over me, I couldn’t live with myself.”

“And I couldn’t live if I lost you.”

Jace glared at Theron incredulously. “What are you doing? Can’t you see she’s going to destroy the galaxy? I thought you were smarter than that.”

Theron’s jaw set stubbornly. “I know what I’m doing.”

An observer droid approached unnoticed, hovering every few meters to complete its scan.

Liatrix laughed bitterly. “You forget, Malcom, if it wasn’t for my warning you and the rest of the Republic would’ve been completely annihilated by Vaylin’s fleet.”

“Zakuul attacked us because of _you_. The Republic is on its knees—you must be happy now. It’s what you wanted all along. Sith filth. I can’t believe my son would throw in with you.”

“You really are blinded by hate aren’t you,” Theron growled.

“How the hell did you find out about Iokath anyway?” Liatrix asked.

Jace’s gaze shifted to Theron.  “This was meant to be a trap, wasn’t it? Lure me here, let the machines do your dirty work. You’d choose her over me?”

“I would,” Theron said quietly.

“No one _lured_ you here, Malcom. I wanted Iokath for the Alliance, but this planet—can’t be controlled, not by anyone.”

“She’s right. You don’t belong here, Supreme Commander.”

“This is getting us nowhere,” Jace barked and opened fire on Liatrix.

Her saber growled to life and deflected the incoming blaster bolts. “You want a fight—you’ll get one!”

“Enough!” Theron shouted. “Stop this, both of you.”

The observer edged closer and scanned, its targeting ray fixing on Jace.

“Take cover!” Liatrix pushed Theron out of beam’s outer edge, tumbling them both behind one of the fencing structures.

No sooner had the observer targeted Jace, a scarlet beam sliced through the artificial atmosphere above and struck him three times in quick succession.

Jace froze, his eyes fixed so wide his pupils were pale gold islands in a sea of white.  Blood ran from his nose and ears and then he fell.

“Father!” Theron howled and bolted to Jace’s side. 

“It’s too late Theron,” she said, eyeing the spherical droid hovering above to make sure it wouldn’t strike again. 

The device, satisfied that the solitary target had been sufficiently damaged, rose up and drifted to another quadrant.  Liatrix remained rooted in place and watched from afar, her fingertips playing over the face of the chrono.

Theron paid no mind to the retreating droid and cradled his father’s head.  “We’ll get you help. It’ll be okay.”

“No,” Jace murmured and his eyes closed. “It won’t. I’m sorry…”

A final breath rasped from his body and Theron bowed his head.  “You always put the Republic first—I hated you for that—and now you’re gone. I couldn’t save you.”

Liatrix watched in silence and after several minutes had passed, she approached them cautiously. “I know it hurts and I’m sorry. If I can do anything to help, I will.”

Theron held her close and shut his eyes. When she felt him pull away, she took his hand. “Com the others, have them meet us here with the shuttle.  We won’t leave him here like this.”

“Thanks, I mean that.”

 

*

 

Nox and Andronikos sped across Korriban’s red shifting dunes and slowed their speeders to a stop on a cliff overlooking the Sith Academy. Little remained of The Valley of The Dark Lords, only a few shards of dust beaten stone and crumbled statues. The faces of the giants supporting the great pyramid had their faces erased, their once-elegant features no more than boulders half-buried in the sand.

The setting sun glowed like a great eye over the apex, the fiery golds and reds dousing the structure like molten lava—a majestic sight—but after the initial grandeur wore off, a closer look revealed a battle-weary building in danger of collapsing on anyone daring to seek refuge under its crumbling remains.

Andronikos drew his goggles up over his forehead and squinted.  “Must’ve been somethin’ back in the day, huh?”

“It was. Seems a lifetime since the first time I saw it, fresh off the shuttle,” Nox said, her voice just barely audible over the whistling winds. “Vowrawn and I had talked about rebuilding the school and the valley—not just restoring it, but bettering it, to stamp out the bitterness of our defeat.  Needless to say, we never got the chance.”

“We’re not actually goin’ in that death trap are we?”

Nox shook her head.  “I’d rather the academy than where we’re going, but in order to secure my final ingredient, I need to pay someone from my past a little visit.”

“Just make it quick. Getting on this rock was bad enough. Getting off is gonna be a whole other rancor ride.”

“Then let’s not tarry.  Just the thought of it gives me a bitter taste in my mouth.”

 

One of the platform elevators still functioned and carried them down into the valley.  Minutes later, Nox came to a stop outside what remained of the overseer’s dormitory. 

“This is it,” she said ditching her goggles and outer robes. 

Andronikos followed her inside and leaned against the crates piled high against the wall, his robes and leather coat gaping open just enough to reveal the blaster dangling from his hip.

“I know you’re here, Harkun.  I can smell your foul, loathsome, carcass from here,” she taunted.

Stacks of crates lined the entrance and the lack of dust suggested they’d been recently packed.  A leather folio sat on the lowest crate.

Harkun emerged from the rear of the dormitory and for the briefest moment, a look of utter shock registered on his hardened features, before resuming his usual flinty expression.

“What are you doing here?” Harkun grumbled.

“What? No bow? I am after all your Empress.”

“ _Former_ empress.”

“Tell me where Abaron is and I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”

“ _Lord_ Abaron has taken over Renning’s facility in the Lower Wilds.”

“Still conducting his breeding experiments, I trust.”

“He’s obsessed.  As if his precious red skin is the ultimate definition of what it means to be Sith.”

“Careful, Harkun, you sound almost offended.”

“That ridiculous toy holocron he wields means nothing.”

“Failed did you?”

“That is not your concern! I suppose you’ve reconsidered his offer?”

“Hardly.” Nox’s gaze fell on the packed crates and baggage.  “Going somewhere?”

“Yes, not that it’s any of your concern.”

“Never thought I’d see the day you’d leave Korriban or your position as Overseer.”

“An Overseer of ruin,” he snorted. “There’s nothing holding me here.”

“It takes money and connections to leave now.”

“And I have both in abundance, _slave_.  I don’t have time to indulge your whims. Leave.”

A pleading sensation, shrill and flat like an out of tune note struck Nox across the Force, urging her to find the source.  Peering out from behind the doorframe a tawny-skinned Sith girl with eyes as pale as Nox’s stared back at her.  The child was seven, at most.

Andronikos straightened at the girl’s presence. His eyes narrowed as he glanced between the child and her guardian.

Harkun whirled about and growled, “Didn’t I tell you to go to bed?” 

“You have a child, Harkun? Where’s her mother? I need to see the woman who’d willingly breed with you.”

“Dead.  You got what you came for. Now get out!” he roared.

Nox eyed the girl, turmoil settling over her shoulders like a cloak. “You’re right, I have what I came for,” she said flatly. “Come Andronikos, let us be on our way.”

Andronikos remained rooted and before he could react his blaster flew from its holster to the doorway and discharged five times.  Harkun wavered and dropped, the center of his chest a charred and smoking pit.

Nox knelt beside him and pressed her fingertips to his throat.  “He’s dead.”

The child dropped the pistol and held her arms out to be picked up.

“She killed him—can’t say I blame her, but still.” 

Andronikos strode past Nox, reclaimed his blaster and picked the girl up, balancing her against his hip.  “He hurt you?”

The child nodded.

Nox’s hand closed over her mouth and she glared at the body on the floor. 

“Hmph. Can’t say I saw _that_ comin,’” he mumbled. 

“What are we going to do now?”  Nox frowned.

“Not like we can leave her all by herself. Guess we take her with us.”

“What are _we_ going to do with a child, Andronikos?”

“Dunno. We figure that out as we go.”  His eyes fixed on Harkun’s body.  “Sick sonvabish, hurtin’ a little kid.”

Nox snatched up the folio from the crate, her brow lifting as she perused the contents.  “Where in blazes would he get this sort of money?  Tickets to Jaguada of all places…”

Andronikos reached over and snatched the cheque.  “Not gonna let _that_ go to waste.  I still got connections with the Banking Clan.”

“You’re going to cash it.”

“Damn straight,” Andronikos grinned at the child. “Girl’s gotta have some spending money. Maybe a new dress er two, huh?”

“Should I be jealous?” Nox crooned. “You never struck me as such a softy.”

“Hmph. She makes me think of what you must’ve been like little. Now let’s get that meat sack you came for and get the hell off this rock.”

((to be continued…))

 

 

 

 

 


	32. Chapter 32

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Thirty-Two**

 

 

“I want to thank you again,” Theron said, “whatever our differences were—it didn’t feel right leaving him in that place.”

Despite the warmth of the sun and the breeze gently swaying the surrounding trees, Liatrix kept her distance from the rocky burial mound. It surprised her how little effort it took to turn the sky black and freeze the stars in its vast infinity.

She could feel the rough texture of the stones against her palms without touching them and the scuffing sound of stone piled on stone echoed in her ears. If she ventured any closer, would they take her back to the cold dark world populated with graves for one man? 

Her fingers curled into a fist and she relished the sensation of her nails digging into her skin, a reminder that she was no longer in Valkorion’s hell.

Theron grasped her shoulders and canted his head.  “You okay?”

“Yeah, just thinking.” The ferns swayed over the riverbank, weighed down by the spiraling fiddleheads on the tips of each frond. “I won’t lie—I didn’t do it for him, I did it for you, so you can find peace.”

“I know,” he said, releasing his hold on her. “I knew he and I would never be close, but I still hoped, somehow, it might’ve been possible—foolish, I know.”

“You’re not foolish, Theron. Without hope, we’re empty, with only obligation to drive us.”

“Is that how _you_ feel?”

“I have something to live for.”

“What’s that?”

“The end,” she said quietly. “One day, all this will be nothing but a memory.”

“Master Zho once told me, that my father and Satele fell in love in a place very much like this.”

“Maybe they’ll find each other again,” she said, drifting from the graveside.  She glared at the open area around her, daring Satele to appear, but the woman would not comply. ‘ _Typical_ ,’ Liatrix thought.

Theron followed her down the path. “Still can’t believe we managed to get past that Republic cruiser. They did _not_ want to give up.”

“With everything that happened on the surface, we deserved a break. Besides, what were they going to do after we took out their hyperdrive?”

“I know you could’ve done more, but I’m glad you didn’t. Thanks for that.”

“You’d think after sparing them, they’d cut me a little slack—you’ve heard the reports, right?”

Theron nodded and fixed his gaze on the evergreen needles scattered over the patchy loam. “Yeah, I heard.”

“To them, I’m a no-good traitor—a murderer and a war criminal.  It’s only natural they’d think I killed him too.”

“Let’s not go there,” he whispered.

“Fine, let’s not.” Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

“Obviously, you’ve got something on your mind.  Want to talk about it?”

“Something about this stinks—how did he find out about Iokath? Where we’d be and when—and what we were after? There’s no way that was a coincidence.”

“You think we have a leak.”

She nodded. “And whoever it is may as well have pulled the trigger. This was a set-up, I’m sure of it.”

“Have you told anyone else?”

“No, and I think it’s better that way.  We don’t know who they are or what their goal is.  Was it simply to help the Republic, or something more sinister?”

“It’s worth looking into.”

“Then let’s do that—keep it between us for now.  Depending on what we learn, maybe we should let it play out and see what happens.”

“You’d make a pretty good spy.”

“I like to think I learn from the best.”

“Jonas would be flattered.”

“I _meant_ you,” her gaze drifted toward the cliff-side base.  “Did you mean what you said back on Iokath?”

“Every word.”

She stopped and took his hand. “Don’t anchor your life to mine, Theron. I’ve seen how this ends.”

“Master Zho used to say, ‘the future is always in motion.’”

“—Only for those who have one.”

He cupped her hand between his. “Hey—stop that. I don’t want to hear talk like that from you.”

“I’ve accepted it—I think it’s time you did too.  The war ends, when I do.”

“You don’t expect to survive,” he said, stricken. “I won’t accept that.”

“You have to.”  She tugged her hand from his and stalked toward the camp. “Find the leak, Theron.”

“Whatever you say, _Commander_ ,” he muttered.

 

 

*

 

Nox tapped her fingernails against the hover-stretcher, her gaze riveted to Lord Abaron’s unconscious body. Time had been kind to the elegant Sith lord; if possible, his features had grown even more handsome and distinguished since her days at the academy.  The memory of his refined briery voice warmed her the marrow. It wasn’t Vowrawn’s voice, but it was one she could listen to for an eternity.

Andronikos engaged the autopilot and sauntered to the rear of the _Sky Princess II._ He paused long enough to tug the blanket higher over the strange Sith child that had fallen asleep on the narrow black couch lining one side of the corridor.  He pressed on as if summoned by the rhythmic clicking tempo he knew so well.

He leaned against the archway and folded his arms, watching the love of his life, moon over the body that would serve as the vessel for the love of _her_ life.  The colour of her eyes reminded him of bleak grey clouds that heralded days of biting rain and he wondered if her tears ran hot or cold and cursed himself for not knowing.

“Hmph. You look about a million klicks away right now,” he grunted idly.

“I suppose I am—just reminiscing about paths not taken.”

“Just how well did you know this Abaron anyway?”

“Well enough, that I almost married him.”

“First I hear of it.”

“You don’t expect me to reveal _all_ of my secrets do you?” she asked coyly.

“Maybe.  S’pose we’ve all got something.  Just seems to me to be the kind of thing you’d tell a guy. Did _he_ know?”

Nox shook her head. “No.  I never saw the point in telling Veles either.”

“Glad to hear I’m not the only one outta the loop.  So, why didn’t you?”

“Marry him?” Nox smoothed her robes and glanced thoughtfully at Abaron. “I suppose, I wanted more out of my life than to breed a horde of screaming children.”

“So he wanted a mess of kids, huh?”

“Not just that—he was obsessed with what he referred to as the ‘supreme race.’ It wasn’t enough to be Sith or to have our red skin, it was the purity he dreamt of that frightened me.”

“You? Frightened?” Andronikos nearly burst out laughing but stifled it.

“He was very much into experimentation and I feared if we were to have children what he might do to them.  People are not akk dogs, to breed for certain characteristics. If we had a child that looked too human, he would’ve thought nothing of culling it—like it was some sort of blighted runt.”

“Your father—you said he was human.”

“That’s right, he was.”

“And that’s what scared you—that your child would look human.”

“It’s been known to happen. The way the genes fall, it’s quite possible for Sith of mixed heritage to have human looking children or children who appear as traditional Sith.”

“And this is who you wanna cram the old man’s spirit into?”

“I can live with his voice and appearance, just not his ambitions.”

“Hmph. I see why you didn’t wanna talk to him beforehand.”

“It would serve no purpose.  I’ve tried to stop thinking of him as Abaron, ever since I made my choice. Abaron, for all intents and purposes, is dead.  The tranq dart was definitely the way to go. He won’t know what hit him, as you so often like to say.”

“Gonna ask you again.  You sure you wanna do this? It’s not too late to back out and I don’t judge, you know that.”

“I know, but yes, I need to do this. We’ve come too far to turn away now.”

“Not _we_.  _You_. Just so we’re clear, Sith.”

Nox frowned. “Where’s the girl now?”

“The _girl_ was right tuckered out. She’s fast asleep out there.”

“This is a problem we didn’t need.”

“Take it easy, she’s just a kid.  After she wakes up, gets some food into her—maybe we can find out if she has family.  Get a name out of her.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it, a’right?” Andronikos growled.

“There’s something off about that child—she makes me uneasy.”

“That’s rich.  You, of all people, bothered by a rugrat. If push comes to shove, that cheque I cashed is more than plenty to get her set up in a little house somewhere outta the way with a nanny—maybe some muscle to watch over ‘em too.”

“So you _do_ have a plan, why didn’t you say so?”

“Guess I was hopin’ you’d have more of a heart and more sense too,” he snarled and stalked back to the cockpit.

“Where are you going?”

“Somewhere I can breathe,” he snarled under his breath.

Nox stood and followed him “We weren’t finished.”

“No? We look pretty finished to me.”

“What happened to ‘we’ll be in each other’s orbits forever?”

He glared at her, his lips curled in revulsion.  “Don’t you go twistin’ my words.  I _meant_ what I said, but it’s pretty clear only _one_ of us ever meant it.”

“Are you implying I haven’t been sincere? You mean the world to me.”

“Maybe the world ain’t enough,” he growled and towered over her, his finger jabbed at her chest. “I look at you right now and you don’t wanna know what I want to do to you.”

“Try me,” she purred and ran her fingers over his wrist.

He pulled his arm away as if he’d been burned. “I’m not playin’ this time. I told you’d I’d help with this crazy messed up Sith mumbo jumbo and I will.  But that’s it. Then I’m out.  We’re through.  Got it?”

“No!  I told you I loved you and I meant it.”

“You gotta piss poor way of showin’ it.”

“You want to keep her, don’t you?  And play house, the three of us a family.”

“Somethin’ so wrong with that? Helluva lot better than whatever we’ve been playin’ at. None of us is gettin’ any younger.”

“So that’s it, you’re leaving me.”

“Yeah—yeah, I s’pose I am.  Been a long time comin’ too if you ask me.”

“I _need_ you, you can’t just leave.”

“I can and I will.  I’m done. Now get outta my sight, I can’t stand to look at you.”

“Andronikos Revel. _What_ has gotten into you?”

“What’s gotten into me? I’ll tell ya. Sense. That’s what.  I’ve only ever wanted one thing, Sith. That’s never changed.”

“You want more money?”

“No! That ain’ it. Money I can get anywhere.  Galaxy’s full of it. Maybe when you grow up enough to figure it out—you know what? Don’t bother. Just get out of my sight before I wring your scrawny neck and put you out of my misery once and for all.”

The persistent wail of the proximity alert squawked between them like a mewling pup demanding attention.  Dromund Kaas loomed large in the ship’s viewport, its surface clothed in billowing mounds of nimbus clouds heavy with rain. Lightning blinked inside them, flashing in time to the whim of some invisible conductor.

“We’re here. Looks like you’re about to get your wish, Sith. I hope it’s worth it.”

 

*

 

Doc collected his instruments and stowed them in the autoclave for sterilization in his lab on Odessen and flicked off the overhead lights.  The last bands of fading light retreated across the window he passed on the way back to his office.  Something unseen compelled him to stop and the urge to look over his shoulder was overwhelming.

“Who’s there? No need to sneak up on Ol’ Doc. I don’t like surprises except on my birthday and it’s not, so…”

A tall, lithe, silhouette stepped from the shadowed niche, a reflection cutting across the square lensed ocular implants perched over the bridge of the man’s nose as he spoke. “Good evening, Doctor.”

For the first time in a long time, Doc found himself at a loss for words and rooted to the floor.

The pale man emerged fully into the dim light, idly tugging at the hem of his leatheris gloves.  “It seems it’s my good fortune that we cross paths yet again.”

“Yeah…how about that. Long time. Uh, you look good—homicidally good. The look really works for you—edgy, but you totally pull it off.”

“Indeed. You do know why I’m here, yes?”

Doc nodded cautiously.  “I didn’t get a chance to reschedule our appointment.”

“Why don’t we do that now and discuss what you owe me over a spot of tea.”

“It wasn’t my fault, I swear—the wife got into some local trouble…whatever we’d agreed upon before—is fine by me.  In fact, I’ll throw in whatever you want, free of charge.”

“Excellent,” the pale man oozed and indicated the hall leading to Doc’s office.  “After you?”

 

((to be continued…))


	33. Chapter 33

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

 

Green mould touched every surface of the Dark Temple, casting a mossy hue over the twisting faces carved into the walls. Though their lips never moved, they seemed to whisper, many voices all at once to the steady pulse of dripping moisture. 

Particles of centuries-old dust lifted through the faint green beams of light cutting across the temple.  Great stone demons, blackened with age supported the thick fluted columns holding up the ceiling, emerald eyes giving the illusion of trailing after anyone nervy enough to enter.

Andronikos pushed the hover-stretcher carrying Lord Abaron, the Sith child at his side. She clung to the arching push bar, with plum-sized fists, her mouth and eyes agape in awed reverence.

Nox led the unusual parade, the hem of her ritual robes leaving behind thin snake-like tracks in the dust. The insane human vermin once populating the temple had been exterminated years ago, with only the occasional skeleton reminding them there had ever been anyone in the temple at all. On and on they trudged down lengthy corridors, through grand halls and finally down a spiraling staircase leading to the depths of the temple.

“It’s not much further,” Nox announced over her shoulder, as they passed through a set of ornately carved doors.

Inside the chamber, obelisks pointed down from the ceiling like accusing fingers and a burial vault and altar dominated the dais at the far end.  Blue flickering flames roared from ancient braziers to cast an ethereal light.

Andronikos maneuvered the floating platform into position and sloughed the bag of ritual supplies off his shoulder.  He offered his hand to the child and she eagerly clung to his entire arm like a vice.  Her eyes wandered toward a shadowed corner and a cold draft swept between them, enough to rustle their clothing.

“He doesn’t want me here. He hates me,” she whispered.

Andronikos glanced around but saw no one. “Who?”

“Him—the man in the mask,” the child said, nodding to a seemingly empty corner as if Andronikos could see the intruder as clearly as she could.

“I don’t see nuthin,’ you sure?”

She nodded. “ _Allo-wishus_ hates me.”

“Who’s that?”

She tugged on his sleeve to draw him down to her level and whispered in his ear, “ _Allo-wishus_ Kallig.”

Andronikos frowned and a look of dawning lit his eyes.  “Just stay close to me and keep quiet.”

The girl nodded and glared at the shadows. Her lips curled up at the corners, but the smile never reached her eyes.

Nox whirled on the whispering pair.  “Is there a problem? I am _trying_ to consecrate a chamber here.”

“Yeah. There’s a problem,” Andronikos began, “Kid’s creeped out.  We’re headin’ back to the ship.”

“You can’t just leave.”

“Watch us,” he sneered. “You’re on the clock.  If you’re not back in four hours tops, were gone.”

“That’s _not_ what we agreed.”

“Hmm. Guess I renegotiated. Tick, tock, Sith.” 

The girl gave a wriggly fingered wave to the temple’s darkened corner and clung to Andronikos as he led her out of the chamber.

 

Nox unpacked the supplies from her pack and set them out in the order the ritual demanded.  She washed down Abaron’s body and had just finished re-wrapping it in a fresh robe, when a pale blue glow emanating from somewhere behind her, caught her attention.

She spun around and found herself face to face with the spirit of her ancestor.

“Flesh of my flesh—what is the meaning of this? Desecrating my chamber, betraying my memory…what you mean to do will not end well.”

“What are you talking about? I’ve done nothing to desecrate your chamber or betray you.”

“Still naïve as ever. You bring that abomination, here? Reveal the location of my burial place? Where I dwell?”

“He’s a pirate, but hardly an abomination. You’re exaggerating.”

“Not your lover. The demon child!” Kallig spat.

“She _is_ odd, I’ll give you that, but a demon?”

“The girl is a perversion conjured by my greatest enemy—in life and in death. He is the reason I remain here.”

“Great, well, if you tell me who he is, I’ll be more than happy to drop her off on his doorstep. She’s cramping my style—leading my man around by the nose.  That’s _my_ job.”

“This is no time to jest! Child, listen to me—the girl belongs to none other than Tulak Hord himself.  I sensed his foul essence from the moment you arrived.  She means you a harm. She will turn those closest to you against you.”

“What would you have me do?”

“Dispatch the child quickly, wash your hands of her.”

“It’s on the to-do list, I assure you,” Nox drawled. “The sooner you let me finish what I came here to do, the sooner I can throw a bone for her and drive off.”

“First you come here with that foul Dashade of his, now his demon spawn and foul magicks?”

“That foul Dashade you speak of has a name—it’s Khem Val and he belongs to _me_. Perhaps, I can use the child, as I do the monster.”

“More likely they’ll conspire against you. Heed my advice, child—were it not for my intervention in the past, you would not be standing here challenging me today.”

“All right. I promise to take it under advisement and I thank you, but I need to do this ritual.  It’s been too long already.”

Icy air roiled around the spirit. “Listen, flesh of my flesh—mind that you do not become the architect of your own demise.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“I must leave you now. Do not forget you are the last hope of our line.”

Nox waited until the spirit dissolved before returning to her preparations. After feeding incense to the braziers, she dipped her fingertip into the small well of blood Darth Fernal had supplied her and drew the ritual symbols over Abaron’s eyes, nose, mouth, tongue, and chest.  After she marked his hands and feet, she traced his genitals with the last of the blood and Abaron stirred.

The sweet smell of the incense quickly covered the stench of dust and decay and Nox glared at the man on the hard flat stretcher.

She spoke the incantation, the words of the ancient Sith, the syllables foreign and awkward over her tongue until they were intimately familiar and the words twisted themselves into sounds she understood as if it were the only language she had ever known.

“Nu cast del Abaron sulig sis ikuny ir reiklauti Veles Vowrawn! I cast out Abaron from this body and summon Veles Vowrawn!”

She plucked the ritual dagger tucked inside her belt and cut along the symbols she’d drawn in blood.  The wounds opened and Abaron’s blood leaked out of the body until his rich ruddy skin took on an ashen tone.  His arm twitched and she slammed it back down onto the stretcher. His skin left behind a cold, sticky residue on her hands and through the Force, she could feel his heart quicken and then slow, until minutes later it finally stopped with his last gurgling breath.

“Veles Vowrawn, I summon you to this body to live again! Veles Vowrawn nu reiklauti j'us kia sis ikuny kia live darval!”

She chanted the incantation until the body surged and hissed its first breath.  The heartbeat began again, slowly at first and then quickening.

The dagger dropped next to her feet with a clatter, instantly forgotten.  “Veles…it’s me.  Is that you? Can you hear me? Open your eyes! Talk to me!”

His eyes opened, the pupils small and panicked. “Feravai,” Vowrawn growled.

By the familiar way he rolled the middle syllable of her name, she knew she had succeeded.

“It worked…I can’t believe it’s you. It’s really you.”  A giddy laugh bubbled up from her throat and she pressed her mouth to his. The last of Abaron’s blood dissolved in her mouth and she could feel his lips twist under hers as she tasted the sweetness of his living breath.

Strong hands cupped her face and she deepened the kiss, until he forced her away, panting.  He stared at her and shook his head, his brows knitting together to form a thick groove between them. “What have you done? Feravai…” he croaked. 

The timbre of his voice was a seductive blend of Abaron’s thorny nobility and Vowrawn’s charming rolling accent.

“I found a way to bring you back.  You were killed on Nathema, I lost you,” she whimpered. “But none of that matters now, you’ve come back to me. We’re together again.”

He raised his arm and flexed his new hand and frowned.  “You’ve trapped me, in this…this mortal cage.  My foolish vixen, do you have any inkling of what you’ve done to me?”

She pulled back and stared at him incredulously.  “I brought you back.  Like we always promised each other, if the worst happened. I kept my promise. I love you,” she murmured through her tears. “Veles, I _love_ you…and you’re alive.  Death can never touch us again.”

“No, my dear. You don’t understand, _this_ is not living. _This_ is a fleshy prison.”  He struggled to sit upright, cursing the elegant flesh containing him.  He panted from the effort and shook his head. 

“I don’t understand, I thought you’d be pleased.”

“My dear,” he said, clasping her fingertips. “I had tasted ultimate freedom. I could go anywhere in the galaxy, at the speed of thought—see places I had never seen, observe people and creatures I could never have imagined to exist. I saw old friends, relived my happiest days—and learned from the most trying times.

“Time has no meaning, I could be newly born one moment and a man the next. Everything that I was, lay before me.  My life knew no limitations. There were no secrets. I knew, _everything_ , Feravai. Understood, _everything_. The Force had laid everything bare before me. For the first time in my life, I understood what it meant to be free, and you took that from me.”

Nox dropped to her knees and clutched his hands between hers and wept.  “You need time, that’s all.  You’ll remember what we had here and none of that will matter. Whatever you may have had, you didn’t have _me_ and I didn’t have _you_.”

“On the contrary, my dear. I saw you born, your life, the cruelty you endured and how you blossomed despite all of life’s trials. I know you more intimately now than I ever did. You have no secrets from me.”

“Aren’t you angry?”

“Only that you have tainted your spirit over me. I am no longer of this world, my dear.  You don’t understand what it means to be one with the Force—only to be plucked from its embrace and trapped _here_ with all these limitations.”

“Stop talking like that. You’re here now. You’re alive. I want to be with you, _always_.  Give life a chance—you’ll forget. Be with me again.”

His shoulders sank and he bowed his head. “Very well…if you insist,” he murmured.

 

*

 

Back at the ship, Andronikos filled a cup with blue milk and tossed a handful of sweet flat cakes on a tin plate and set it on the dejarik table where the child sat.

“Hey, thought you might like somethin’ to eat.”

The girl smiled and nodded and warily reached out for one of the flat cakes. 

“So, you got a name, kid?”

“Sephna,” she managed between bites.

“Andronikos Revel.”

“Nik?”

“Sure, Nik works. Now that we’re acquainted, we gotta figure out what we’re gonna do. You got family?”

She slurped a mouthful of the milk and a pale blue haze settled over her upper lip. “I got a brother.”

“You know where he is?”

“With the fat worms.”

“Hutts? You mean the Hutts? Now we’re getting’ somewhere,” Andronikos said.

Sephna frowned and abandoned her snack to peer out the viewport.  She ducked quickly and pointed.  Two squadrons of Imperial soldiers jogged toward the ship, weapons at the ready.

Andronikos cocked his head.  “Looks like we’re about to get company,” he grumbled. “Grab your stuff, we’re going to play a little game. C’mon, follow me.”

He grunted as he pushed a wall panel aside to reveal a secret compartment inside.  “Get in, I’ll be right behind ya.”

Clutching her food, Sephna climbed into the compartment and huddled in the far corner.  Andronikos slid the panel shut and fastened it.  “Now we gotta stay really quiet, got it?”

“Got it, Nik.”

 

((to be continued…))


	34. Chapter 34

  

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Thirty-Four**

 

 

 

Andronikos carefully drew his pistol and cocked his head to listen as the troopers boarded and rummaged through the _Sky Princess II_. Sephna buried her face into his shoulder and clung to his side. He curled his free arm around her and muffled the sounds with a gloved hand pressed to her ear.

The troopers ripped through supply crates and access panels before taking up the floor panels running the center of the vessel.

“Empty. No one’s aboard—they must be inside the temple,” one of the metallic voices announced. “You two—stay back in case they return.”

“Understood,” the men said in unison.

Andronikos tipped the child’s chin up and motioned for her to shift back into the corner of the wall compartment.  She obeyed, watching him with wide eyes in the dim light.

He kicked the panel out with both feet and crashed into one of the troopers, discharging his pistol into the man’s chest at close range.  The second trooper barrelled toward Andronikos from the front of the ship and the pair tumbled down the aisle trading punches.

The trooper head bashed Andronikos hard enough to daze him and smashed his pistol hand against the deck until the weapon skittered across the metal panels.

Andronikos brought his knee up but instead of sending the soldier reeling with a dirty kick, a metal spike gored his inner thigh and he roared. 

Sephna screamed.

The tech blade stuck out of his leg at an odd angle and the soldier pummeled Andronikos’s face over and over. Bloody spittle shot from his mouth, spattering the dejarik table. The device shuddered as they crashed into it and a holo rancor charged across the board to pile onto an Ortolan before winking out again.

Just as he was about to lose consciousness the trooper’s body rose to hang limply above him.  The durasteel armor shrank and crumpled until it had choked out the soldier’s last gasping breath.  The body fell to the floor with a thunk, Andronikos rolling out of the way, just missing it.

Sephna hovered over him and pressed her hands to his bloodied cheeks.  “Don’t die. Don’t leave me by myself,” she whimpered. “Nik?”

He groaned and blinked up at her through swollen eyes.  “It’d take more than that to kill _me_. Hmph.”

She threw herself over him and clamped him in a tight hug.

“Argh…thanks kid. Now get me that box,” he groaned, pointing at the medkit dangling on the wall by one corner.

“Okay,” she chirped and dashed to retrieve the kit.

He dragged himself up to sit and tugged the blade out of the meat of his leg. He cut the tear in his trousers wider and dropped the knife with a clatter.  Blood oozed out of the wound, but the amount made him sigh with relief.  “At least he missed the artery.”

Sephna pried open the kit and set it down beside him. 

“Take that green pack—tear it open and give it here,” he instructed.

A moment later the numbing relief of kolto seeped into the wound. Sephna dabbed at his facial cuts with the perpetually moist antiseptic towelette.

“Easy, kid. That smarts.”

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“Gimme that syringe,” he said, pointing.

She eyed him quizzically and pointed to a pair of clamps.

“No. The tube with the needle,” he said, with a toss of his head. “That.”

She passed the stim syringe to him and watched intently.  He bit off the protective cap, spat the piece out and jabbed the needle into his leg. His hand shook as he depressed the plunger.  “That oughta do it,” he panted.  “Grab my blaster and one of the thermal detonators—the metal balls from the locker.  Careful.  Don’t press the switch or it’ll blow us sky high.”

“Okay, Nik.”

The stim shot through his system as he hefted himself off the floor.  The tremor in his hand and leg settled and the fire in his belly equaled that of five men.

“Can I come too?”  Sephna asked as she passed him his weapons.

“Think you can crush a few more guys like you did that one?”

She shrugged.  “I guess.”

“Then you’re comin.’ Just stay behind me and do as I tell ya. Let’s go, kid.”

 

 

 

*

Nox took Vowrawn’s elbow and eased him off the hover-stretcher.  His knees gave and he tumbled onto the stone dais, his hands breaking his fall.  “Forgive me, my dear—it seems with my rebirth, I’ve lost my legs.”

“Not to worry. You’ll be dancing the Bynarrian jig in no time.  On three,” she announced, taking his arm. “One—two— _three!_ ”

Together, they rose up, the Force weaving between them, binding them like a support between twin saplings.  He fell against the stretcher, his elbows jutting out to keep him propped upright.  “So much effort for such a simple task,” he puffed, eyes flashing with annoyance. “I need a moment.”

“We’ll have an eternity after we’ve escaped. Catch your breath, but Andronikos won’t wait forever.”

“Escape? Why?  Contact Outpost Warden, have one of the men take us home.”

“It’s not that simple—a lot has happened since your death.  We no longer _have_ a home. If we linger Jadus will hunt us down like rabid tuk’ata.”

“He’s taken over?”

“Just after you died. Froze all our accounts, our assets, destroyed our monuments—everything. We need to get it back.”

He tugged at the pointed fledgling tendrils flanking his chin. “Why not let it be, my dear?”

“I can’t believe you’d suggest such a thing. He’s relentless, you know that. Power is freedom.”

“Power is a _prison_.”

“Veles—surely the afterlife didn’t wipe our code from your mind?”

He gazed at her with a stunning tenderness she’d never seen in Abaron’s eyes and marveled at the difference a soul could make.

“Consider this,” he began, “in the afterlife, there is no code. No chains to be broken—no lies. Peace and passion co-exist. Light and dark—are merely constructs the living use to justify their choices and exert control over others.”

“The Vowrawn _I_ knew wouldn’t allow our enemies to win. We’d be plotting their torment over strip sabacc and Zeltronian Mimosas.”

He clasped her chin, the pad of his thumb fanning caresses over the soft flesh. “My dear,” he whispered, “the man you knew is dead.  These childish intrigues are meaningless.  Why occupy ourselves with one game piece in one game? This life is but a single morsel in a grander feast.”

She pouted and turned her gaze up to meet his.

“Don’t look so miserable, my beloved. My love for you remains wholly unchanged. Give up this irrational paradigm. We don’t need it. The galaxy with all its delights will be our playground—think of it—two trickster gods reveling in all the Force has to offer.”

“You’re not suggesting—”

He gazed at her meaningfully. “It would be the ultimate adventure.”

She backed away and laughed incredulously. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing—you want to make some sort of death pact? At least give _this_ life a chance.”

“On one condition,” he said, wagging his index finger, “that you consider my proposal with the same scrutiny.”

“Fine. We have a deal,” she grumbled, her lips pursed into a tight pout. “I suppose there’s no harm in _thinking_ …”

An icy draft carrying Kallig’s whispers swirled around them.  “Begone! Enemies invade my temple—and they come for _you_.”

Nox frowned. “Get on the stretcher. You’re in no condition to fight.  Leave that to me.”  She drew her lightsaber, igniting it as Imperial troopers filled the chamber.

“How dare you interrupt my ritual!”  Through the Force, she projected her voice as a haunting whisper coiling around each soldier’s senses. “I command you to leave at once!”

The Field Marshall stepped forward and offered a curt bow.  “Emperor Jadus commands that you accompany us to the Citadel. Come peacefully, I would prefer to avoid using force.”

Nox cackled.  “I’d like to see you try.”  A volley of purple-blue lightning cut across the chamber and connected with the first three lines.  Electricity lanced and sparked through their armor and dropped them to their knees.

The Field Marshall scrabbled toward her on his elbows and depressed a small device in his palm. “The Emperor said—you would resist.”

A shrill tone cut through the silence of the tomb.  Nox gritted her teeth, her lightsaber deactivating as it escaped her grip.  Blood snaked from her nostrils and she fell to her knees, hands clamped to her head.  Vowrawn growled through the pain and covered his ears to dampen the sound.

 

Andronikos half-limped, half-jogged toward the chamber’s entrance.  Sephna winced at the distant tone and grabbed his arm.  “It hurts.”

“Wait here. Somethin’ ain’t right.”  He quickened his pace and armed the thermal detonator in his hand. His thumb hovered over the button and when the troopers came in sight, he lobbed the device and dove behind an abandoned barricade.

The resulting explosion shook the chamber, the roar echoing and rippling in every direction like an angry ocean.  Shattered bodies tumbled until they landed in bloody torn up heaps.

Slowly, he lowered his hands and peered over the top of the barricade.  Dust dribbled from the ancient rafters.  He coughed and felt a light touch on his shoulder.  Sephna looked into his face her lashes white with dust.

Andronikos curled an arm around her. “You okay?”

She nodded.  “It’s safe now. The noise stopped.”

His ears rung enough from the explosion that it took him a moment to process that the head-splitting wail had stopped. “Let’s go then.”

He sauntered into the chamber, his gaze panning over the dead. He recognized the ball of black iridescent robes next to the stretcher. 

Nox unfurled slowly and blinked through the dust.  “Andronikos?”

“I’m here. You’re safe.” He swiped the blood from her nose and folded her close.  He kissed her dust filled hair.  “We need to get the hell outta here.”

Sephna watched them sullenly.

“You’re hurt. What happened?” Nox brushed the hair off his forehead to inspect one of his cuts.

“We were boarded, but we took care of it.”  He peered at the stretcher.  “What about him? Did it work?”

Vowrawn sat up. “My boy, we need to stop meeting this way.” He took in the carnage and scowled. “Pity. That could’ve been us.”

“Are you for real, right now?” Andronikos growled. “You hit your head er sumthin?”

“Long story,” Nox interrupted. “But one for later.  Jadus will sense what happened.”  Her attention landed on the girl. “What’s she doing here? You brought her _here_?”

“Yeah, I brought her. She’s good in a fight.”

“Really,” Nox muttered, arching an incredulous brow.

“Yeah. _Really_.”

Andronikos levered himself up to stand and passed Nox her lightsaber.

Sephna dropped to her knees and picked up a severed arm.  She uncoiled its shredded bloody fingers, one by one and removed the durasteel device in their grip.  The casing was round and thick with a flat face like a chrono and even had two bars on either side for a strap. A small dial suggested power settings.

“That’s a bit macabre,” Nox remarked. “She’s _playing_ with the bodies.”

“Not playing. She’s found something,” he called over his shoulder as he limped toward her. “Watcha got there?”

Sephna held up the chrono.  “The thing that hurts.”

“I’ll hold onto it,” Andronikos offered and she passed the device to him. “We might need to figure out what makes it tick.”

Nox settled Vowrawn more fully onto the stretcher.  She pressed a kiss to his forehead.  “Rest. There’ll be time to talk later.”

Sephna watched Nox curiously. 

“You did good, kid,” Andronikos said. He steered her away from the body toward the exit.  “Let’s get off this rock,” he barked.

Nox piloted the stretcher to join them.  “Agreed. The sooner, the better.”

 

*

 

Jadus surveyed the city below and the foggy expanse of jungle beyond it, from his throne-room inside the apex of the Citadel.  His men were dead.  Somehow the improved version of the FFA Chrono had failed to contain Nox and Vowrawn.  He sensed another with them—a sullied child with fascinating potential and a familiarity about her he couldn’t place.

His jury of bespectacled grey men filtered into the chamber at his unspoken summons. 

“Has my informant located my Cipher?” he asked placidly.

“Not at the last reporting, my Lord Emperor. However, the Supreme Commander is dead and the seeds of dissension have been sown.”

“The least formidable of our enemies. And what of The Hand, I trust you’ve progressed on that front?”

“Our people tracked The Emperor’s Wrath as she departed Grugga’s auction on Nar Shaddaa nearly three weeks ago.”

“And?”

“They have a base on JanFathal, just outside the capital of Anthar. Every man is equipped with the Chrono and in position. Shall we proceed with the raid?”

Jadus was silent for a moment.  “Not yet.  Tell me, what was the Wrath’s interest at the auction?”

“She purchased a Force-sensitive slave—a young boy.”

“Fascinating—that the Emperor’s Wrath would risk revealing herself to purchase a slave. This is no ordinary child.  I want to know more. I want to know _everything_.”

“Yes, my Lord Emperor.”

 

The _Sky Princess II_ rose from the jungle, pivoted and blasted away from Dromund Kaas.

 

Jadus turned to face his men.  “There is a ship leaving our atmosphere now.  Track it.  I want those aboard brought to me _alive_.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And find my Cipher.  Do _not_ fail me again.”

 

 

((to be continued…))


	35. Chapter 35

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Thirty-Five**

 

 

Doc felt the barrel of the droid’s rifle dig into his back. He dabbed the sweat beading under his hairline with the cuff of his shirt.

“LQ-D8, wasn’t it? You gotta realize, ol’ Doc can’t work like this.  I need room to move—to breathe.  Your master’s gonna be just fine, I promise.”

“Commence the procedure or I will terminate your life signs, as well as those who share your domicile,” LQ-D8 stated in his prim metallic voice.

“A’right, a’right.  Just waitin’ for the anesthetic to kick in.  He has to be fully under, this is a delicate operation. I can’t have him wakin’ up halfway through, understand?”

The droid moved back, giving Doc just enough room to circle the operating table unimpeded.  He inspected the facial replacement inside the refrigerated storage unit.  The features were symmetrical, well-proportioned and ruggedly attractive and the scalp was covered in thick black hair much like his own.  The pale man had spared no expense in acquiring his new identity.

The new eyes were an icy grey, as haunting as the ‘ravishing Rattataki’ he knew, the orbs stored in separate containers included in the unit.  A rosy clotted gel coated the underside of the face—a substance that would automatically generate nervous tissue and blood vessels once the new face was connected to the musculature of the pale man’s skull. The sight of it was enough to put him off camby flavored energy gelatine forever.  Just as well, the pudding was better anyway.

Several baggies of the pale man’s blood lined the inside of the lid in case a transfusion was needed.

Another case contained new state of the art subdermal facial implants.

He drew a deep breath.

The most difficult aspect of the surgery would be in removing the old tissue without damaging the connections underneath.  

His gaze fixed on the man’s face as he took up his laser-scalpel and his worries bubbled to the surface once more. 

 _‘There’s no guarantee he won’t kill you after it’s all done. Kira and Kiran too,’_ he thought. 

The droid hovered, barely a meter away and something sharp bit into Doc’s left thumb. 

“Dammit,” he tore off the beige stretchy surgical coating off his hand and a fat bead of blood hung off his thumb.  After smearing kolto into the tiny cut, he held up his hand to the droid.  “Gotta redo my glove.”

The droid kept his rifle trained on Doc.  “Your ineptitude contradicts your reputation. Perform the procedure.”  To further emphasize its point, it squeezed the trigger with a soft click.

Doc screwed up his bravado. “You’re making me nervous, I can’t work like this. Never in all the time I’ve been face swappin’ have I had an assassin droid with a gun to my head while I’m doing it.  Back off. Unless you want your master’s face to look like a Hutt having a stroke. His life is in _my_ hands.”

LQ-D8 relaxed his grip and straightened.  “What is it you biologicals say—pretend I’m not here.”

Doc re-dipped his hand into the sterilizing solution and waved it about to dry the coating faster. “Easier said than done.”

He turned his back to the droid and reclaimed his scalpel.  A whooshing noise shot past his head and his first thought was the droid had taken a pot shot at him—until he saw an electrical current lick out of its joints as it doubled over, deactivated.

Doc took cover under the table and pulled the blaster he kept hidden underneath.

A blur of grey caught his eye above him and he cocked his blaster.  The broken skylight receded and a man in a dark grey jumpsuit dropped down in front of him.

“Relax Doctor, I’m here to help,” the invader drawled.

“Darmas Pollaran—the hell are you doing here?”

“My boy, there’s little that escapes my attention around here. It looked as if you could use an assist.  It’s not every day I see a doctor forced into performing surgery at gunpoint.”

“I swear it’s not what it looks like!”  He made a gesture of setting his blaster aside in peace. “Been years since I said _that_.”

Darmas watched Doc squirm. “This doesn’t have to be complicated.”

“This can’t be happening,” Doc moaned and palmed his forehead. “You have to get out of here—forget you ever saw any of this. Lives depend on it.”

“My good Doctor, don’t be naïve. I know this man. That droid is programmed to kill you the second you’re done. Don’t believe me?”  With a few deft movements, Darmas tugged the droid’s memory bank free of its casing and presented it to Doc.  “Take a look for yourself.”

He scrolled through the commands and transmission codes to Belsavis and frowned.  “Guess I owe you. Ex-wife or not, if the Commander finds out, I’m finished.”

“Not to worry my friend. I have an idea about that—but I can tell you’re the kind of man that doesn’t like to carry a debt.”

“You want something. A’right. Name it.”

“This man’s blood is augmented with self-healing nanites—not to mention he has several state-of-the-art implants I could use. What d’you say, Doctor?”

“What about after—he’s gonna be lookin’ for payback. I’ve got a family—”

“Draw his blood, Doctor.”

Doc shrugged and obeyed.  “His type might be different than yours. We need to test it.”

“Trust me, that’s irrelevant,” Darmas muttered and rolled up his sleeve.  “Inject me.”

“If you say so.” 

Darmas made a fist and watched the needle slide into the protruding blue vein in the crook of his arm.  “That’s better,” he said, flexing his hand. “I feel like a new man already.”

“But this doesn’t solve _my_ problem.”

Darmas hopped off the stool and drew his pistol, an elegant model complete with silencer module.

“Whoah! Hold up there. No need to shoot Ol’ Doc.”   

“You really ought to look into de-caf, Doctor.”  He pressed the muzzle of his pistol over the pale man’s heart and discharged the weapon six times.  “Problem solved.”

“Are you kidding me? How is _that_ solving my problem?”

“We tell the truth. This man is a known enemy to several of the key command personnel here.  He forced his way into your operating room,” he said glancing up at the ruined skylight, “And lucky for you, I just happened to be here for my physical.”

“And we leave out the part about the nanites and implants, I’m guessing?”

“I always suspected you were an astute man, Doctor.”  He extended his hand.  “Do we have an agreement?”

Doc hesitated but finally clasped Darmas’s proffered hand.  “Yeah—we do. He is gonna stay dead, right?”

“Rest easy, you and your family are safe. Nanites _do_ repair extensive damage, but without his droid accomplices, his system will not reboot. He really is quite dead, I assure you. Now if you would kindly complete the work we agreed upon, we can see to reporting this mess to the proper authorities.”

“Yeah.”

*

 

Liatrix lingered over the massive oval strategy table dominating the center of the war room.  She sensed Lana at her back and spun around. “Do you have something for me?”

“Yes, Commander. I’ve received word from Kaliyo.”

“Good news I hope.”

Lana nodded. “The bombs are in position and armed.  She, Jorgan and Havoc squad are now off world. We’re ready to detonate on your command.”

“That’s excellent news. To be honest, when you recruited this anarchist, I had my doubts.”

“She has no love for Zakuul and while she does seem like a wildcard, we did work well together previously.  Jonas and Theron both can vouch for her effectiveness and she worked with Cipher Nine for several years as well. Though I don’t believe the two of you have ever met, Cipher Nine is one of the Empire’s most effective agents.”

“I remember you mentioning that. But the Empire is ruled by Jadus now—does Nine serve him?”

“Absolutely not. She and Jadus have a complex history, but I promise you, Commander, she would much prefer to keep her distance from him. He very nearly killed her with a ritual.”

Theron sauntered over.  “My ears were burning. What’s up?”

“Everything’s ready,” Lana began, “all we need to do now is detonate.”

“Now I guess we get to see if Iokath was worth the trouble,” Liatrix said idly.

Theron nodded grimly. “You’re sure you want to go through with it.”

“Positive,” Liatrix said. “I’m done walking on eggshells where Zakuul is concerned. I want this over. Theron, are we linked into Zakuul’s holonet broadcasts?”

“Just finished slicing in. We’re all set.”

“Then let’s get this over with. Visuals up and detonate those bombs,” Liatrix commanded.

 

Liatrix positioned herself before the holonet viewer.  Theron and Lana stood to her right and Jonas came up to stand to her left. Before long, the rest of the war room filtered closer to stand behind them, eyes wide and mouths agape.

The first explosions served as a bass undertone of the symphony to follow.  The Spire, housing the throne room where Marr had been struck down by thick masses of lightning was the first to collapse. A rising cloud of dust and flame engulfed the base, the tower crashing down floor upon floor as if some unseen beast chomped at its foundation.

The surrounding spires mirrored the first but added a dueling harmony of raging beats that triggered a chain reaction in the bowels of the city.  Explosions ripped across Zakuul, every avenue bright with boiling fire until the horizon beamed with a false sunrise.

A shrill timbre twined with the percussion as hundreds of thousands of voices screamed at once, only to be permanently silenced by the raining debris.  A sad chorus of belated warning klaxons chimed in next, the pitiful staccato demanding the unmoving bodies somehow flee Izax’s apocalyptic decree.

Buildings swayed and tumbled, struggling to prop each other up like wounded soldiers before surrendering to the relentless onslaught.

Lana’s eyes gleamed all the more golden for the fire mirrored in them.  Theron bowed his head and watched the floor as the explosions hit their climax.  The sun reactors blasted in sequence like cannons aimed at the capital in a final salute, effectively crushing what little remained of the city.

The Seventh Spire, home to Arcann’s observatory was the last of the mighty towers to crumble. The moons, pale Dysnomia and scarlet Neikea, stood over the remains, both visible through a gauzy curtain of black smoke.

Jonas glanced over at Liatrix.  Her body was rigid and stock still, her saber hand curled into a tight fist.  Jags of reflected flame lit her eyes, turning them into burning oceans.

A spate of tears spilled down her cheeks. Just as his gut clenched in sympathy for all she had endured, she smiled.

 

((to be continued…))

 

A/N: I was listening to Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture while writing and I noticed after I’d finished, my word count for this chapter is exactly 1812 words lol.  That’s the sort of thing I find funny.  Yes, I’m weird, I know.


	36. Chapter 36

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Thirty-Six**

 

 

After the explosions waned, only the crackle of static filled the Odessen war room.  No one moved and no one spoke.  It was as if the room itself teetered on a precipice where the slightest movement or gesture would determine the outcome of a defining moment. 

A shrill beep cut through the static like a rousing slap, effectively breaking the stupor that had settled over the chamber’s occupants. One by one those gathered around the holonet display shuffled back to their posts.

The console at the heart of the war room flashed red.  Lana whirled on the table, her eyes narrowing as she processed the meaning of the alert. “Commander, I’m receiving word of an unsanctioned departure,” she said, scrolling through the incoming transmission. “It’s Koth—he and his crew have taken control of the _Gravestone_.”

Liatrix swiped the tears from her cheeks and abandoned the holonet in favour of her workstation. “Open a channel—find out what he’s up to.”

“Opening a channel—Koth explain yourself—the _Gravestone_ isn’t slated for a mission and you haven’t been cleared for take-off.”

“That’s because I’m not looking for clearance. My crew and I—we’ve had enough of your Alliance—and this tyrant you insisted on saving.  I’d love to stay and chat, Lana, but I’ve got a ship to steal.”

“Koth! No! Don’t do it!”

“I have no choice, Lana. I gotta make this right. I helped free her and she burned Zakuul to the ground.  The Alliance doesn’t deserve the _Gravestone_.”

“Koth, I’m begging you, don’t do this—Koth listen.”

“I’m done listening, Lana. Switching off.”

She slapped the strategy table with both hands. “He’s taking off!”

“He’s not going anywhere,” Liatrix said, feverishly inputting her personal codes into the console.

“How will you stop him?”

“I installed an override a few months ago—just in case something like this were to happen.”

“It’s working—” Lana gasped.

After the _Gravestone’s_ forced landing, Liatrix stood. “Lana—have our security detail board the ship. Take Koth and his crew into custody.”

“Shall I have them escorted to the brig, Commander?”

“No. Have security hold them on the platform, I’ll deal with this myself.”

Lana followed. “Commander? Permission to join you?”

“Granted,” Liatrix barked as she strode toward the exit. She punched the elevator, feeling it lurch beneath her feet as it began its steady rise to the surface.

Theron and Jonas exchanged looks and fell in behind Lana when the lift returned.

 

Two squads of Alliance troopers boarded the _Gravestone_. Two more surrounded the vessel, each man crouching behind an energy shield with their rifles at the ready.

The ping of discharged blaster fire bounced off the ship’s dense interior walls.  Amid curls of grey smoke, the faint stench of spent cartridges wafted down the boarding ramp. Angry shouts rose to a fevered pitch and a sudden blinding light meant someone had lobbed a flash grenade.

The smoke thinned taking the noise with it—a brief lull before the clatter resumed. Bodies slammed against bodies and occasionally the sickening crack of a weapon splintering bone leaked out.

Greenish-grey gas puffed down the ramp like fog giving rise to raw croupy coughs inside. Unscathed by the gas and flash grenades, a pair of troopers marched down the ramp first and were soon followed by the rest with Koth’s cuffed and beaten crew between them, and finally Koth himself who sputtered and coughed even as he resisted arrest.  The first troopers to disembark trained their weapons on the prisoners.

Pockets of onlookers gathered to watch and whisper their confusion in hushed voices. Lord Scourge stood among them but said nothing.

Liatrix approached the _Gravestone_ , her white uniform and billowing cloak a sharp contrast against the gleaming black armored troopers. “Stealing my ship, Koth? Not smart.”

 “My people were acting on my orders—this was my doing,” Koth rasped. “Spare them, Commander.”

“Oh…so it’s _Commander_ now. Your crew betrayed me when they chose to follow you.”

Theron and Jonas quickened their stride to catch up to Lana.

Koth stared at Lana, his eyes pleading. “Say something, please Lana, I’m begging you. Stop this madness.”

“Quiet. There’s nothing left between us,” Lana muttered.

“I have to make this right. I didn’t help you so she could raze Zakuul,” Koth pleaded.  “My crew only wanted to help people. Let them go. We stole the ship because we wanted to save Zakuul. I won’t apologize for it.”

“I don’t want your apology.” Liatrix canted her head with an unspoken order. One of the troopers bashed the stock of his rifle against Koth’s face. His nose bled and swelled at an odd angle until one eye closed and a massive bruise bloomed over his eye socket.

Liatrix walked along the line of traitors. “They’re traitors, one and all, just like you and this is what happens to those who betray me. Line them up.”

The troopers wrangled the eight members of Koth’s crew to the edge of the platform and reclaimed their positions before them.

“Fire at will,” Liatrix said flatly.

Molton plasma bolts burned through the line of traitors, sending them over the edge to plummet into the rocky gorge below. A series of dull thumps and rustling bushes heralded their demise.

“How could you…” Koth wailed.  His head lolled as he fought the dizzying effects of the concussion.

“No Koth. The question is how could _you_? You decided their fate when you incited them to commit treason. Their deaths are on you.”

“You’re a monst—argh.”

Liatrix willed the Force to coil about his throat to choke the last syllable from his mouth. He rose over the platform until he was suspended over the gorge, wriggling like a freshly hooked worm about to be swallowed by a cavernous maw.

His eyes bulged and his flesh took on a blue-grey tinge. Before his body could suffer its final throes, she wrenched her hand and snapped his neck.  His body tumbled into the ravine and stopped just shy of the river.

“Lana—dispatch a droid detail to see to the bodies.  Dispose of them however you wish,” Liatrix said. “And have Tora repair any damage to the ship.”

“Yes, Commander,” Lana said solemnly.

Liatrix’s eyes met Theron’s briefly. “Return to your posts, there’s nothing more to see here.”

If she sensed Scourge’s presence, she didn’t let on and continued into the base.

Jonas ran his hand over the stubble peppering his jaw. “You gonna talk to her?”

Theron shook his head. “What’s there to say?”  

 

*

 

Doc canted his head to inspect his handiwork.  “All things considered, I’d say it turned out pretty good. Can’t even tell.”

Darmas ran his fingers over his cheek up to his left temple and then to the back of his neck beneath his hairline. “Good work, Doctor. I see your reputation is well deserved.”

“Yeah well, the pay was decent, but it’s not like I can ever write about it for the University of Coruscant.”

“You really _are_ every bit the glory hound I’ve heard you to be.”

“Uh…thanks? So—what are we going to do about our number One problem?”

“You just leave that to me,” Darmas said, sliding off the table. “There _is_ one thing you can do—store that droid until I can collect it later.  Shame to lose such asset.”

“Not really, if you’re askin’ me.  Can’t say I’d be sorry to see it melted into scrap. Whatever you do—just keep that thing away from me. If I never saw it again, it’d be too soon.”

“I hear you m’boy, loud and clear.”

Darmas collected the pale man’s accessories, including the facial replacement and heaved it into the incinerator while Doc wrangled the assassin droid into a storage closet.

“We’d better make sure we’ve got our stories straight,” Doc said.

“It’s really quite simple—no matter what they ask, don’t deviate from the story.”

“Which is what exactly?”

Darmas knelt to arrange One’s body on the floor. “That this man, broke into your surgery through the skylight and caught you by surprise. You have no idea who he is.”  He studied Doc’s face and frowned. “It really would track much better if there were signs of a scuffle.  This may hurt.”

“What the hell—” Doc managed before Darmas’s fist connected with his cheek. “Ow! How’s that for gratitude huh?”

“My apologies, but this needs to be believable.  A few more details ought to shore up our story.”

“You are _not_ hitting me again,” Doc growled.

“Of course not—but your clothing needs to corroborate what happened.”  Darmas tugged the sleeve and shoulder of Doc’s lab coat and ripped.  Next, he tore his stethoscope in half.  “That should suffice.”

“What about you?”

“Not to worry,” Darmas drawled and tore his cuff.  After spattering some of One’s blood on his face and clothing, he roughed his hair.  “You might want to do the same,” he said, nodding at Doc’s neatly styled hair. “Where’s your com?”

Doc mussed his hair until it fell into his eyes. “Over there.” He caught a glimpse of his reflection and studied it.  “You know—this kinda works—bit more devil-may-care than usual—but I can totally pull it off.”

“Let’s hope you can pull off having been in the scrap of your life, m’boy.”

“I ran with the Balmorran Resistance a few years back.  You’d be surprised at what I picked up along the way.”

“And today you get your chance to flex those muscles.”  Darmas tapped the com unit and panted as Jonas’s image sprouted from the device.  “Thank the maker. You’d better get down here, m’boy.”

“The hell happened to you?”

“I’m here with your Doctor. You’d better see for yourself. We’ll explain everything when you arrive.”

“I can’t just leave,” Jonas grumbled. “All Hell’s broken loose.”

“Probably one reason he chose _now_ to attack.” 

“Who?”

“Your old nemesis—he’s _here_.”

Jonas rammed his hand through his hair. “You can’t be serious.  You’ve got him in custody?”

“In a manner of speaking—he’s not going anywhere. Ever.”

“You killed him?”

Darmas spread his hands. “I wasn’t about to let him _shoot_ me.  There was a scuffle. I daresay if it weren’t for me, you’d be down a doctor right now.”

“Put Kimble on,” Jonas barked.

“I’m right here, Balkar,” Doc mumbled and dabbed at his lip.  “This better not leave a mark.”

Jonas glared at Doc’s image. “You’ll live. What happened?”

“It’s just like the Ol’ man said. Crazy bastard came from nowhere and jumped me. Ripped up my lab. I need a damn drink.”

“A’right. On my way, Balkar out.”

 

*

 

An hour later, Lana strode into the lab.  “I’ve summoned everyone here as you asked.  They should be here presently.” She took a few tentative steps toward the body.  “Is it true, Jonas? Is it really him?”

“Sure as hell looks like it.” Jonas drew back the sheet covering the pale man’s corpse.  “I was hard-pressed to understand it myself.  No one survives decapitation and being jettisoned into space. It’s been over seven years. I don’t care who the hell they are. _No one_ lives through that.”

“I took the liberty of running a few tests, while we were waiting,” Doc said. “His blood and DNA show a level of degradation common to first-generation clones.”

“You’re tellin’ me the tricky sonuvabish somehow cloned himself? And still held a grudge?”

“Hey, I have no idea how he’d have done it, I’m just sayin’ this is what we’re looking at.” Doc pushed his datapad toward Lana and Balkar. “The _results_ don’t lie.”

“Clearly, some details may remain a mystery,” Darmas added somberly.

“We can’t chance another resurrection,” Lana said.  “We need to figure out how he did it.” Her attention landed on the doorway, as Theron, Liatrix, and Quinn arrived.

Doc sighed. “Look, it’s been a long day, and I’d just like to get home to my family.”

Lana nodded.  “Of course, Doctor. You’ve been through quite an ordeal. If there is anything further, we’ll be in touch.”

Liatrix caught Doc’s elbow. “Before you go—are you all right?”

“Ol’ Doc’s just fine. Don’t you worry about me, sweetheart. Just callin’ it a day.”

“And you, Darmas?”

“No worse than your typical cantina brawl.  Nothing I couldn’t manage.”

“Why were you here?” Liatrix asked. “People don’t come here unless they’re sick or hurt.”

“I appreciate your concern, Commander, but it was time for my routine physical, nothing more.”

Liatrix glared at the body.  “So this is the man who had my children murdered? You told me he was dead.”

“The man who murdered Deston and Sephna is dead, Commander. Doc’s test results indicate this man is a clone. I realize this must be difficult for you.”

“Actually, quite the opposite, Lana.  If anything, this only justifies my actions toward Zakuul further.  I lost everything because of them.”

“I lost too,” Theron snapped. “But nothing justifies _that_.”

Liatrix whirled on him. “You never knew our son, never held him. You never heard my daughter laugh. You didn’t know them.  You don’t understand and you never will.”

 

Darmas’s gaze shifted between them, his brow lifting at the details.

Lana stepped between them. “Please—it’s been a long trying day—don’t say anything you’ll regret.”

“The only thing I regret right now—” Theron growled.

Jonas clamped Theron’s shoulder, his eyes pleading.

“Don’t!” Lana snapped. “I think we have enough to go on here—enough to lay this matter to rest for the time being. Emotions are running high. I think it’s best we all call it a day.”

“Lana, m’dear, I agree completely. If there’s nothing else?”

“Of course, Darmas. We’ll be in touch if we have further questions.”

“Thank you, I’ll be in my quarters if I’m needed.”

“I wouldn’t wander off if I were you, Pollaran,” Theron called after him, before storming off in the opposite direction.

“I hear you, Agent Shan,” Darmas muttered under his breath. “Loud and clear.”

 

Quinn circled the body, his attention alternating between the broken skylight and the blaster burns on One’s chest.

“When you’re done, I’ll get one of the droids to incinerate the body,” Jonas offered.

“No,” Quinn cut him off. “Have him placed in refrigeration. We may have further need to examine the body. Perhaps an autopsy.”

“I think that would be wise,” Lana agreed. “And I think it would be best to keep that information amongst ourselves.  Of course, I’ll brief Theron, but no one else needs to be included in this.”

“Agreed,” Liatrix said.  Her saber hand opened and closed involuntarily, and her tone was sharper than usual. “Quinn, I’m sorry you have to go through this. I know he was your brother.”

“Don’t be, my Lord. This man is _not_ my brother and even if he were, I’ve disowned him as such years ago. Please accept my deepest regrets for any painful memories this no doubt dredged up.”

Liatrix nodded. “Thank you, General.”

“For what it’s worth, my lord, Agent Shan was out of line,” Quinn added.

Jonas frowned.  “Let’s just get the body to the morgue for storage.”

“Shall we leave them to it?” Lana asked.

“May as well,” Liatrix said. “I have a few matters I’d like to tie up in the war room.”

“Of course, Commander.”

 

*

 

Doc held Kira and their son close, far longer than he usually did and he fought the tears welling in his eyes.  “I probably don’t say it enough, but I love you guys. You’re everything to me. I dunno what I did to deserve you, but I have the best wife and kid in the galaxy.”

Kiran wriggled free and dashed to his room giggling. “I’m gonna hide!”

“And when I find you, you’re going straight to bed, mister,” Kira called after him and turned back to Doc. “See what happens when you get all mushy on him?”

“What happens when I get all mushy with you?” He teased.

“This.”  Kira pressed her mouth to his and lingered close.  “I love you too, big guy. Comin’ to bed?”

“I’m still a bit wound up.  I’ll catch up to you, later.”

“Your loss,” she purred and sauntered toward Kiran’s bedroom.

 

He ran his hands over his face and through his hair, the air cooling the traces of sweat his palms left behind on his cheeks. After pouring himself two fingers of whiskey, he dropped into his cushy chair and clicked on the view screen.

A bright curtain of flames dominated the screen and a reporter crouched under a section of rubble that had ceased burning.

_“This is Ina Zadliz of CorusNet News Network, reporting live from Zakuul. The world continues to burn after Alliance terrorists concealed hundreds if not thousands of explosives, the likes of which, none of us have ever seen before.  The magnitude of the damage is staggering and experts say that it’s possible Zakuul may burn for years.  That’s right, folks, **years**.  _

_The remnants of the Eternal Fleet are literally falling from the sky as we speak, as no one on Zakuul has control over the vessels.  Damage to the control system has clearly infected the fleet.  It would appear the AI in charge has malfunctioned and issued a self-destruct order.  This is a dark day for Zakuul._

_“Humanitarian emergency response crews were dispatched by the Supreme Chancellor and volunteers from the Republic are en route. We have been told that we possess no material capable of extinguishing these fires. Traditional methods only feed the flames._

_“The death toll is—well, I can’t even guesstimate what it might be—surely in the hundreds of thousands. Wait—I’m getting an update—a body has been pulled from the wreckage of the Spire—maker this is incredible—the body has been identified as Empress Vaylin of Zakuul.  One moment—the body has been identified and **confirmed** as the late Empress Vaylin of Zakuul.  This must be devastating for any survivors—who may be off world. _

_“The Republic and the Supreme Chancellor have issued a joint statement condemning the Alliance’s attack on Zakuul and its mostly civilian population.  The Empire’s spokesman, Minister Lorman has issued a separate statement decrying the attack…We will continue to broadcast live from Zakuul so long as it remains safe for us to do so, back to you Zayan.”_

Doc downed his drink in one go. “Bastards. Trix frees them and this is what they do. She ended the damn war! That’s gratitude right there.”  He shook his head.  “But hundreds of thousands dead…dammit. Couldn’t you have found a better way? Kark me…all those people…gone.  Yeah, but who the hell are you to judge? Not like you cared about the faces. Kark. How the hell can I ever fix that?”

The scene changed back to the news desk and the image of a handsome dark hair-haired man with pale grey eyes flashed upon the screen.

_“In other news, the investigation into Moff Ryon Kilran’s disappearance is ongoing. Kilran is the son of the late Grand Moff Rycus Kilran, best known for his strategies at Black Talon and The Maelstrom Prison where he served after the Cold War. The Grand Moff served the Empire with distinction and his son was a rising star in the Imperial Navy.  His last known location was Coronet City where he was posted. If anyone has seen this man or had contact with him, kindly contact your local authorities or CorusNet News Network.”_

Doc sat forward in his chair and gawped at the image.  “I never forget a face…”  He sighed and collapsed into the backrest. 

“Maybe if I pinch myself…it’ll all go away.”

 

((To be continued…))


	37. Chapter 37

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Thirty-Seven**

 

Scourge stood in the creased shadows at the back of the war room.  Dark, lonely and silent, the chamber appeared deserted, but he knew better.  The crimson glow from the monitors painted her skin almost the same shade as his own.  She’d retreated into the high-back chair at the spy’s station as far as it would allow, her boot propped against the desk.  Her left hand curved over her eyes like a bandit’s mask. 

Liatrix didn’t move, but her voice cut across the war room like a dagger. “If you have something to say—say it.”

He stepped into the light. “I _saw_ what you did.”

“If you’re here to lecture me—don’t bother. We don’t have resources to waste on traitors. I really don’t feel like explaining myself _again_.”

The slight quaver in her tone belied the mettle she projected. She had learned to disguise her anguish well, but not from him.

“That’s not why I’m here,” he said, ambling closer. “A Sith requires no such explanations. I take it the spy didn’t approve of the executions—or the magnitude of the bombing,” he accused.  Perhaps he didn’t hide his feelings well either.

“He didn’t say it—but I _felt_ it.”

“What he thinks— _matters_ to you?”

“You don’t really want the answer to that, do you?”

“Don’t be such a slave to expectations.” Scourge snorted and propped his hands on his hips. How easily she tested his patience. Her words were knives thrown, designed to provoke his anger and jealousy—tools she could use to push him away. “What will you do next?”

“I don’t know, but this doesn’t feel over—not by a longshot.”

“Clearly, you expected Zakuul’s destruction would spell the end of the war.”

“Without their interference, the galaxy would be free—from oppression, from financially draining tributes, from star fortresses spying on them, all of it. I _ended_ the war—I gave them their freedom. All I wanted was to go home but that seems impossible now.”

“Not if you want it badly enough.”

“I’m tired. Taking the Empire back could take _years_ and a civil war would make it even more vulnerable. That’s the last thing my father would’ve wanted.”

“You need to stop living for him. His memory is your prison.”

She swiped the swell of her cheek on the sly and when she dropped her hand, their eyes met.

His gaze tarried longer than he intended and he marveled at how the real eclipsed the ideal of his memories. Tonight, the oceans were dark as if mirroring a night sky filled with crimson stars. Her eyes were always the last thing he’d see before sleep took him and the last thing before he’d wake. If the grave could reach him, he suspected he’d see them there too.

He’d won her full attention and decided to use it. “Your grief—it festers. You cling to it, relive it, so much so it’s etched into your marrow.  You could slaughter entire galaxies and never appease it. It won’t bring them back.”

“I had to avenge them.”

“And you’ve done that in abundance. Use your anger to feed your goals, not your anguish.”

“I miss them—so much I can’t stand it. At least pissing off Valkorion kept me distracted.”

“He’s no longer with you.”

“Probably realized he wasn’t going to get anywhere.”

“Perhaps. Though in knowing him as I do, I suspect we haven’t seen the last of him. No doubt he lies in wait—making his preparations. If a tool won’t serve its purpose, he _will_ forge another.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Did you just call me a useless tool?”

“If the boot fits,” he teased. “In that brief moment—you sounded almost like yourself again.”

“She gets out on occasion.”

“You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“It’s better this way.”

“I refuse to accept that,” he murmured.

“You _have_ to. Don’t you see you’d be better off?”

“Hmph. You sound as I once did—trying to justify the absence of emotion. It took me centuries, but I learned I would rather mourn than feel nothing at all. Without emotion our lives are meaningless—we would be Sith no longer.”

“Maybe the Jedi had it right all along. Attachments bring nothing but pain.”

“You’ve suffered so long you can no longer find your way out of it. I would guide you—free you—all you need do, is allow it.”

Her expression hardened. “Is that why you replaced us? Is that how you coped?”

Scourge frowned. “What? No—that was never my intention where Toska was concerned.”

“ _Toska_? Who the hell is Toska? I meant the colony you led on Dromund Fels.”

“Very simply, she was you.”

“The clone Creant had kept…you found it. Jonas warned me once—that you wouldn’t be able to let it go.”

“I raised her as a daughter—I spoke of you as her mother. She wanted to be like you, but she lacked your strength. She needed medicine. When I left to seek a remedy, Arcann murdered her, the colony—all I’d built.”

“And _that_ was what kept you away.”

“I searched the Force for any sign of you—for _years_ , but there was none. Our children dead…I was suddenly responsible for hundreds of lives—I couldn’t simply abandon them in favour of a fruitless search.”

 “But you found time to search for the clone.”

“I won’t apologize for it. I grieved as you do. The idea I could still possess a part of you haunted me. It became an obsession—just as Zakuul’s destruction became yours.”

“The man who ordered my children’s deaths—I saw his face finally—a shame he was already dead.”

“They were as much mine as yours.”

 “Then why didn’t you protect them?”

“You _know_ why.”

“Only what Quinn and Lana told me.”

“Little remains to be said. My memories are few and clouded. I have no answers.” He stared into the darkness as if doing so would help him gather the fragmented memories. “My fighter was destroyed after the _Erinyes_ rammed the capital ship. I woke six months later. But none of this matters. I _know_ what you’re doing.”

“What am I supposedly doing?”

“Damn you, Liatrix! You will not lay their deaths at my feet. _You_ chose to stay with him. You _knew_ how it would end and yet you stayed.”

“I couldn’t let my father die alone.”

“Like our children did?”

“ _You_ were supposed to protect them.  You promised. They’re dead and I _hate_ you for it. I’ll _always_ hate you for it.”

Before he could stop himself he wrenched her out of the chair by her wrists. “No,” he began, fighting to keep his voice even, fighting the urge to shake her. “Stop pushing me away. It’s not _me_ you hate. You made the choice. You left them. Your regret, your self-loathing—it’s a stench that clings to you. No matter what you do—one thing will never change: it was _your_ choice and you despise yourself for it.”

“Let me go,” she warned.

“I’m not finished, _My Lord Emperor_ —you’ve isolated yourself—thoroughly. Your allies fear you. Your enemies condemn you. How long before they unite against you?”

“Let them,” she snapped.

“You are on the brink of losing _everything_.”

“Not if I have nothing. I’ll tell you the same thing I told Theron. Don’t anchor your life to mine. I’ve seen how this ends.”

“I will say it once more. Unchecked grief—will _not_ bring them back.”

“Don’t you think I _know_ that? Why did you come here? What do you want? Really?”

“What I’ve _always_ wanted. What I _still_ want.”  He kissed her hard and without mercy. His mouth was a weapon, his lips savaging hers until he tasted the truth of them—hot, moist, salt, and the mellow bitterness of strong tea and sleepless nights. He tasted guilt and regret and blood and when he thought he might lose himself to it, he threw her back into the chair hard enough that it rolled and crashed into the console behind it.

“As if you could push me away so easily,” he snarled and stormed out.

 

*

 

Theron pored over the map of reconstructed data he’d pulled from Scorpio’s damaged databanks and slid the next piece into place. The panel buzzed its objection like a morning alarm that came too soon.

“Dammit,” he growled under his breath.

The agonizingly painstaking process reminded him of the raw-edged, identically-shaped, monochrome puzzles Master Zho liked to inflict on him for fun. ‘They’re a challenge,’ he’d say. ‘They build patience—something all Jedi must strive for.’

“And boredom,” Theron grumbled now as he had then. He wasn’t certain how much patience he’d learned from Zho’s sadistic puzzles, but he had developed a certain compulsiveness that fuelled his need for completion enough to quell his more adventurous impulses for a time. Or to keep him from confronting what truly bothered him.

He dragged another virtual piece along the monitor’s slick surface and waited to see if the data would sync. The panel buzzed its objection again. 

After a string of High Gamorrean profanity, he slumped over the table. “I need a damn drink.”

“So do I,” came a response from the doorway.

“Are you armed?”

“Armed _and_ dangerous,” Jonas said, holding up a bottle of good Kri’gee in one hand and a pair of tumblers pinched between the fingers of the other. He dropped the glasses between them on the table, bit out the cork and poured. “What’s all this?”

“Scorpio’s databanks—been trying to piece them together.”

“And that’s going so well, isn’t it?”

“Just like everything else around here,” he raised his glass in a sarcastic toast. “Scorpio was no factotum droid. There’s a lot here and I haven’t had time to work on it much, but tonight, I was hoping for the distraction.”

“Three guesses from whom, first two don’t count.”

“You got that right.”  Theron threw back his drink and blotted his lips together.

“What’d she say?”

“Not much. How can you talk to someone who won’t _talk_? She’s drowning and I can’t reach her anymore—if I ever could.”

Jonas hunched over his glass. “You can’t be a hero to someone who doesn’t want to be saved. The ship’s sinking, my friend.”

“Well, this is one ship that isn’t going to take its captain with it.” Theron’s brows puckered miserably and Jonas refilled their tumblers.

“You still believe in her. Even after everything.”

“I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t getting harder.”

Jonas twisted his glass against the surface of the table. “Pretty sure Koth and his crew might have something to say about that.”

“What the hell did he think would happen when he got caught? Sith aren’t exactly known to be forgiving.”

“Knowing Koth, he probably figured he wouldn’t get caught.”

“S’pose not. Still, I didn’t think she’d do… _that_.”

“It’s not lookin’ so good. More and more holocasters have taken to calling her a war criminal. Ina Zadliz from CorusNet even suggested the Alliance turn her over to the Supreme Chancellor for a bounty. You know the Empire and the Republic are gonna come callin’ cause we’re circling the drain.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I was hoping I could pull something useful from this mess before it’s too late.”

“Like what? Zakuul’s finished. Arcann and Vaylin dead.”

“I don’t know exactly.  It’s just a gut feeling I can’t ignore. Valkorion’s still out there, somewhere—and my money says Lia’s the only one who can stop him.  She’s done it before.”

“Let’s hope she can make it stick _this_ time.” Jonas eyed the random snippets of jumbled data.  “Memory degrades with time—have you tried running a silicon-dating scan?”

“Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but, I need to be alone. Gotta try and do something productive or I’ll lose my mind.”

“A’right,” Jonas pushed back from the table and stood. “Don’t gotta ask me twice.” He shoved the bottle toward Theron. “Never say I don’t do anything for ya.”

Theron’s lip edged up, but the grudging smile faded as soon as Jonas was out the door.

He circled the table and ran his hand over his jaw.  “Memory degradation—might not be such a bad idea after all,” he mumbled.

A plan formed and the Kri’gee dulled his mind just enough to keep him from dismissing what seemed too simple of a solution.  “If I run a scan—I could date the streams by degradation—group them...then put them through a sorting algorithm. Why the hell not? Got nothin’ to lose.”

 

((to be continued…))


	38. Chapter 38

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Thirty-Eight**

 

Doc’s finger hovered over the ‘send’ key.  After reading the message a third time, his index finger came down like a hammer. For better or worse, the letter was sent. Bleary-eyed, he rammed his hands through his hair and slumped over his desk on his elbows.

Kira sidled up beside him in her bathrobe and clasped his shoulder. “Hey, sleepy-head. Breakfast…”

He leapt away from his desk as if her touch had shocked him awake.  “You scared me half to death!”

“This has been going on long enough,” she said, setting a fresh cup of caf in front of him. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to mind-trick it out of you?”

He rubbed at the redness framing his eyes and yawned.  “You noticed, huh?”

“I’d have to be a one-eyed space slug not to.”  She counted the symptoms down on her fingers. “Not eating, not sleeping, no cheesy come-ons. You have kittens by the litter every time I turn on the holonet. You promised—no secrets, remember?”

He eyed her warily and picked at his mustache. “Yeah, uh, that’s the thing, kiddo…there’s something I gotta confess.”

“So help me if you did more than flirt with that Twi’lek smuggler I’ll Force choke you so hard you’ll see stars. And not by the throat either.”

“But you’re a Jedi.”

“I was Sith _first_ —don’t forget it. Now out with it.”

Doc gulped hard. “N-Nothing like that. I swear.”

“Oh really.” She folded her arms.  “ _This_ ought to be good.”

“Not sure where to start—uh, you remember how we were always scrimping back on Nar Shaddaa? Barely enough for ourselves, never mind all your um…friends? Until I got my practice?”

“I remember.” She eyed him hawkishly. “What about it?”

“That’s the thing—I didn’t inherit it like I said— _not_ _exactly_.”

“What do you mean by _not exactly_?”

“The old doctor wasn’t looking to retire. He was _retired_.  By the Black Sun. He screwed up and I—I um, they replaced him…with _me_ ,” he blurted. “That’s where the credits came from.”

Kira’s mouth hung open. “I should’ve known. No one makes _that_ kind of money on Nar Shaddaa unless they’re a Hutt. So what? Are they coming for us now?”

“No—nothing like that.”

“Then _what_?”

“I was a face merchant.”

Kira rolled her eyes. “Oh, this just gets better and better. Are you outta your mind? You know what? Never mind. I already know the answer to _that_ one.”

“I was wrong to keep it from you. I should’ve told you sooner. I know how much it meant to you to help your friends. I wanted you to be happy.”

“Happy? How can we be happy if we’re _dead_?”

Doc spread his hands. “Calm down—no one’s gonna die, and no one’s coming for us. I promise.”

“You keep saying that, but I don’t believe you. I want the truth or I’m taking Kiran and we’re leaving. Right now.”

“A’right,” Doc murmured. “Back on Nar Shaddaa, I worked hard, kept my head down—never asked questions. I didn’t want to know. Did the work, took my pay. I never knew _any_ of the faces, I swear.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“I know…I was wrong. I’m sorry, I messed up.”

Kira’s eyes softened. “Something changed though…”

“A few nights back I saw a face I _knew_ on the holonet—and they started to talk about him—his family—he had a wife and kids on Dromund Kaas.  They have no idea what happened to him. I started thinking—what if it was you and Kiran—you’d want to know what happened to me? Right? They needed closure.”

“Tell me you didn’t write the Empire,” she whispered.

“I owed it to them. They had a right to know he wasn’t coming back and why.”

“Oh Kark. Do you have _any_ idea what you’ve done?”

“I tried to forget it but I couldn’t—they had a right to know.”

“You were fine with keeping it from all the other victim’s families.”

“Because I _didn’t_ know.”

“At least tell me you encrypted it—maker tell me you did _that_ much.”

“They won’t be able to trace it back to us, I promise.”

 “You scrubbed the outgoing message log right?”

“’Course I did,” Doc whispered and pulled her into a tight hug. “It’ll be okay. You still love ol’ Doc, right?”

“I probably need my head examined, but yeah, I do.”

 

*

 

The Star Destroyer, _Invidia_ entered the Fath sector on the Outer Rim and assumed a steady course for JanFathal and its capital, Athar.

“Admiral Ethos, we have an incoming transmission from Odessen—it’s heavily encrypted—it appears to be from The Hand of Jadus,” the communications officer announced.

 “Put it through to his sanctum, Lieutenant Illes.”

“Yes, sir. The transmission has been transferred and is undergoing decryption protocols.”

“Very good, Lieutenant.”

 

Darmas Pollaran’s image bloomed over the holo console and cast an icy light across the barren meditation chamber.  

“What is it, Agent?”

“Good news, Lord Jadus—your men have taken delivery of the items you requested and my people tell me they’re good to go.  Just say the word, my lord.”

“And what of the Supreme Chancellor? The Alliance sympathizer must be dealt with if the treaty is to go forward.”

“Jebevel Madon has resigned. The Republic’s bleeding hearts would take a dim view of his company’s part in the manufacture of those delightfully sadistic slave collars of his, not to mention all those alien rights violations. Interim Supreme Chancellor Rans is amenable to the peace process, but the demonstration would expedite matters.”

“And the Grand Master of the Jedi Order?”

“Still on Coruscant—and like the rest of his kind, he believes even the most atrocious monster can be redeemed, especially one of their own. Master Relnex _is_ an obstacle.”

“You have proven your loyalty and continue to serve me well, Agent. You have maneuvered our opponents into position, but one detail continues to elude you—Cipher Nine. She is a symbol—one that must be brought to heel. Knowledge is a prize few deserve and its dissemination must be restricted.”

“My sources tell me she’s taken refuge in the Juran Mountains on Alderaan. Eliminating her would be the wisest course—an air strike perhaps…”

“No—she is an extension of my divinity. I will deal with her _personally_.”

“What did you have in mind, Lord Jadus?”

“That is for me alone, you do not require the details.”

“You’ll be moving ahead with the plan as we discussed?”

“My judgment will arrive at the time of _my_ choosing, Agent. Never forget—I am Eternal and the cataclysm will be the consummation of my design.  Be vigilant. Be prepared—but most of all trust in my ascension—your obedience will be rewarded.”

Jadus turned his back to the projection and after its pale light winked out, he returned to his desk and pressed the intercom.  “Admiral Ethos, execute orders five-twenty-five and one-zero-nine.”

“Five-twenty-five? My Lord?” Ethos stammered. “That’s Dromund Kaas.” 

“I’m well aware, Admiral,” Jadus said calmly. “You have your orders.”

 Despite the wild-eyed stares from the officers near his post, Ethos swallowed and gave the order.

Two cities on two worlds on opposite ends of the galaxy would share one fate. 

Ethos shut his eyes. “Your will be done, Lord Jadus.”

 

 

*

 

Quinn stood in the doorway of Liatrix’s office. “My Lord, might I have a moment of your time?”

“Of course, come in,” she said, gesturing for him to come forward. “What can I do for you?”

“I’ve completed the autopsy on the replicant and I have a few findings I’d like to discuss.”

“A’right.  Have a seat.”  She poured tea for the two of them. “I’ve been meaning to come by—see how you’re doing. Even if he was a clone, I still think it would’ve been difficult. If you need some time…”

“That won’t be necessary, my lord, but thank you for your concern.  It goes without saying if there is anything I can do—anything at all, you’ve only to say the word.”

“Thanks, that means a lot.  You look worried—what did you find?”

“Aside from the replicant being a first generation clone of my brother, there is little truth to the account given by Dr. Kimble and Darmas Pollaran.”

“They lied? Why?”

“I suspect a cover-up, my lord. For whatever reason, they wish to conceal how the replicant died.”

“What did you find exactly?”

“The replicant was killed while he was fully under anesthesia—all indications suggest he had been prepped for surgery.  A blaster was discharged into his chest at close range, I’m guessing at least five times.

“Postmortem lividity scans indicate his body had been moved and arranged to appear as if there had been a struggle. I also took swabs of the operating table and found several of the replicant’s epithelial cells, which further corroborates he’d been moved. Though I’ve not been able to examine Dr. Kimble or Darmas Pollaran, I suspect their injuries were self-inflicted to add weight to their story.”

Liatrix pinched the bridge of her nose between her eyes and sank into her chair. “I _know_ Doc, this makes no sense. Why would he perform surgery on this man? Why lie? Where there any indications he’d been hurt? Doc might’ve been adhering to his oath as a healer. He wouldn’t turn away an injured man, no matter who he was.”

“There were no such indications. The replicant was in top physical condition. He didn’t have so much as a scar or blaster wound, aside from the installation points of his cybernetics.”

“I have to be honest, Quinn—I’m not troubled in the least by this man’s death, but what I am troubled by is why they would lie to me and what I should do about it.”

“I have no doubt he meant to harm the Alliance.  I would suggest, given your relationship with Dr. Kimble that you question him privately.”

“And Darmas?”

“Say nothing for now.  Learn all you can from Dr. Kimble first—then consider your next actions. We have no reason to trust Pollaran.”

“He did make it possible for me to eliminate Arcann.”

“He provided a method, you did the heavy lifting, so to speak. I can’t imagine it was easy for you and should you need to discuss it further, you’ve only to ask.”

“Please understand—that’s the last thing I want to do.  I want to _forget_.”

“I don’t blame you, my lord. My advice still stands—it may lead to other revelations.”

“As always—good advice. What would I do without you?”

“I’m sure you would arrive at similar conclusions, my lord.”

 

*

 

Theron Shan paced and yet his eyes rarely wavered from the tumble of code shifting and aligning on his monitor. Sweat moistened his palms and his heart galloped in his chest.  He didn’t dare put a voice to his hope for fear it might bring an end to it.

On and on the code dribbled into place and a mad grin cracked his face.  His eyes were wild and grainy from too many nights with too little sleep.

The code suddenly stopped and so did he.  He froze like a frightened nerf face to face with a butcher.

The strings came together like sentences in a holonovel with vibrant characters, vivid locations, and dizzying dialogue. He couldn’t blink and he couldn’t look away. Mindlessly, he drifted to his chair and sat down hard.  

He could hear the voices in his mind.  He shuddered at the memories some of them brought back, but most of all, he marveled in the beautiful precision of the AI’s mind as he traveled through her memories at the speed of thought. Her knowledge of the universe—her understanding of humanity bred the realization in his mind of how inadequate those terms were in scope and structure.

Tears welled in his eyes and his hand clamped over his chin.

_She didn’t execute the children herself—she’d ordered Lia’s HK to do it._

Visions of sand and rose-tinted skies and ancient Sith monuments grew out of the code and though he’d never been there, he recognized Korriban.  Sandstorms ripped across the landscape wiping the droid’s footprints as soon as Scorpio’s vessel took to the sky.

_She left the three of them there and the children were still alive._

A new thought—a fact—bubbled up through the code from his own mind and took hold…

_Devoted HK units develop a series of fail-safes over time that would preclude them from acting against their prime directive._

_HK would die before hurting those kids._

He raked his hands through his hair and laughed but before long the sound died in his throat and his smile faded. 

“I can’t give her false hope—I can’t do that to her...I _have_ to make sure.”

((to be continued…))


	39. Chapter 39

    

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Thirty-Nine**

 

Theron hunkered down behind the crates crowding the cargo hold of the smuggler’s Dynamic-class freighter, the _Innuendo_.  The pilot and co-pilot prepared for take-off while three other crew members milled around above him performing their various duties.

As soon as the vessel was cleared for take-off by Odessen control, Theron shut his eyes. The churning thrusters vibrated the durasteel plate floor, reminding him of the five credit massage beds on Nar Shaddaa.

He tugged one of the thermal cargo blankets heaped in the corner over his body and his backpack served as a makeshift pillow.  Even though he couldn’t see out, he knew when the ship had cleared the atmosphere by its smooth and steady ascent.  Despite his exhaustion sleep eluded him.  His mind refused to shut off and replayed the events that led to him playing stowaway aboard the _Innuendo_. 

After discovering the secrets inside Scorpio’s memory banks, a plan formed. He made two copies of the data. He kept one for himself; the second he hid under the false bottom of his footlocker along with a letter of apology. Of course, there were no reasons given for his actions, and no goodbyes—only reassurances that he had Liatrix’s best interests at heart and always would. He knew the data would eventually find its way to Jonas and Lana after he was discovered missing. They would unravel the mystery, in case the unthinkable were to happen to him. 

Getting off world was easier than he thought it would be. He’d made a point of indulging in a few drinks with the underworld staff and after learning of a crew heading for Imperial space, it was simply a matter of sneaking aboard.  From there, he’d hotwire a vessel and make his way to Korriban to begin his search.

The odds of finding the children were as high as the number of grains of sand blanketing the Sith planet, but he had to try.  

 

*

 

The sun blazed above Alderaan but failed to warm the Juran Mountain range. Large downy snowflakes skittered across the surface of the gleaming casket and blotted the nearby evergreens from view as thoroughly as the thickest fog.

 “I still can’t believe he’s gone,” Ilia murmured. “He was so certain of the cure—that it would _work_.”

“We think he hoped to spare us—optimism was a skill he practiced constantly these past years despite his diminished aura,” Vector said. “We will miss Eckard’s company. His song is finished, but we will remember its melody until the last star fades.”

Ilia fondled the nosegay of pale blue flowers she cradled in her hands and sniffled. “Would you understand if I said memories aren’t enough? It’s not the same, Vector. I’m a greedy woman, and I _want_ him back. I don’t want his song to be over.”

“We understand and we would expect no less of you. We feel his absence—he was a true friend and loyal colleague. His wisdom lives on in the nest—in this way he has become immortal. Our tiniest fingerlings will emerge knowing him.”

“I suppose that’s a small comfort, at least it wasn’t _all_ for nothing—to possess so much knowledge—losing it would be a waste.”

He pressed a kiss into her hair and admired the flowers.

“They’re pretty,” she said, sniffing the small bouquet. “We had something similar on Dromund Kaas—they were quite rare.  Flowers held secret meanings there—we weren’t always able to say what we felt. They would speak for us.”

“And what did they say?”

“They said the recipient would never be forgotten.”

“Perhaps the language of flowers is universal. We call them starflowers because they are as enduring as the stars.”

“They’re perfect.” Ilia stooped to place the nosegay at the head of the grave and when she straightened, Vector drew her to his side and sheltered her under his cloak.

“Shall we return home?”

“Lets.” Ilia nodded and clung to his arm as he walked her back to their speeder.  As they pulled away, the interment droid lowered the snowy casket into the ground.

 

At their cabin they shook the snow from their clothes and coaxed the fire into a healthy blaze.  They warmed themselves with freshly brewed caf and relaxed by the fire.

Vector took up his memoir and continued his latest entry, his stylus scratching along the sturdy paper in small but elegant flourishes.

Ilia tapped the holo console and settled in to browse the holonet.  Every channel was alive with bright explosions and inextinguishable fires like those witnessed on Zakuul.  Flames roared through the Senate building on Coruscant and through the Mandalorian Enclave on Dromund Kaas.

“Stars…I can’t believe what I’m seeing,” Ilia muttered under her breath and set the device to record the broadcast.  Vector set aside his writing and sat forward to watch with her.

“Nor can we,” Vector said. “It appears they’ve reignited the war…we feared such a consequence after the Eternal Empire’s defeat.”

The split screen gave way to a full view of Coruscant.  A male reporter from Corusnet News stepped into the frame. 

_“This is Elaxander Dreef, reporting live from Coruscant’s capital. What my correspondent in Kaas City and I are seeing is a concentrated simultaneous attack on the Republic and Sith Empire by Alliance forces._

_“It appears the same incendiary devices used to raze Zakuul have been set upon the Republic and Imperial capital worlds. Eyewitnesses state that troops bearing Alliance insignias have been raiding Coruscant’s Senate building and Kaas City’s Mandalorian Enclave and Sith Citadel.”_

The camera zoomed in closer to the Senate building where a single Jedi wielding a pale blue saber could be seen fending off Alliance invaders and was soon joined by three younger Jedi Knights.

_“What we’re seeing now is a valiant Jedi struggling to defend—one moment is that—that’s Master Relnex, Grandmaster of the Jedi Order!  They’re protecting the Senate—a noble effort, but perhaps a bit too late.”_

The Jedi quickly gained ground over the invading troops until a sharp screech cut through the melee, forcing the Jedi to their knees. Within seconds the Jedi crumbled and it was unclear if they were unconscious or dead as they were dragged away.  The camera shuddered and the broadcast turned to static.

Ilia’s eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped. She tapped the remote to replay the images. “That’s the FFA Chrono—I’d know it anywhere,” she gasped.

“We thought the prototype was destroyed during our encounter with Darth Jadus.”

“It was—and we fortified the vault on Nar Shaddaa where the schematics were kept. That must be how they got it. They must’ve breached the vault.”

“We believe something is awry—we know many of the people working for the Alliance—they wouldn’t turn against the Republic or the Empire this way.”

“I agree and it would explain the nightmares—why I’m dreaming about Jadus again. I think he may be trying to find us.”

“We think a trip to Nar Shaddaa is in order—investigate the vault—perhaps learn the identity of the party who stole the plans.”

“You’re right, Vector. We need answers.”  She curled into Vector’s side and he trapped her in his arms.

“We’ll leave tonight,” he whispered and shut his eyes.

 

*

 

Liatrix rang the door chimes to Doc’s quarters and waited.  A moment later the door crept open and Kiran peered up at her.  “Commander,” he gasped, eyes wide. He recovered quickly and stood as straight as a faction standard. “Life Day Lieutenant Kiran, ready for duty!”

“You could give General Quinn a run for his money with _that_ salute,” she said, chuckling. “At ease, Lieutenant. Is your father here? I need to talk to him.”

“Oh yeah, he’s here. Daaaaaaaad! Daaaaa—” Kiran howled before being cut short.

Doc clamped the boy’s shoulder. “Hey, buddy, what’d your mom tell you about answering the door, huh?”

Kiran’s shoulders sank.  “Only grown-ups answer the door. We can’t be too careful,” he droned, half imitating Kira’s tone.

“That’s right. Now run along scamp,” Doc swatted his backside as he ran inside.

Liatrix stifled the smirk lifting her lips and turned to glance at the wall behind her while she waited.

Doc swallowed.  “Hey.”

“Got a few minutes?”

“This couldn’t wait till I’m on duty?”

“No—I’d prefer to talk to you in private—to make sure we’re not overheard.”

“Okay,” he drawled and stood aside to let her in.  “Come on in.  Welcome to the war zone. If we knew we were gonna have company…”

“It’s fine, really.”

Kira strolled toward them, arms laden with toys and laundry.  “Something wrong?”

Liatrix shook her head. “No more than usual—just have a few questions is all.”

“I’ll get caf,” Kira offered and continued on her way to the back rooms.

“Have a seat,” Doc indicated the chesterfield. 

“Thanks.”  The cushion let out a duck-like squeak under her weight.

Doc blanched. “Sorry—we tell him to pick up his toys, but you see just how well that goes.”

“Maybe a direct order from the Commander would help?”

“Y’know, it just might.  He looks up to you.”

“I have a soft spot for my youngest Lieutenant too.”

“So—”

“You want to get to why I’m here. I won’t mince words. Quinn performed an autopsy on the clone’s body and his findings contradict pretty much everything you and Darmas said.  I want the truth.”

Doc blew out a deep breath. “This was supposed to be a fresh start for us.  I never meant for any of it to follow me here.  It’s the last thing I wanted.  I’m sorry.”

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

“Things were rough for a long time—Kira had these refugee friends on Nar Shaddaa and she insisted on helping them.”

“I remember.”

“We settled there—and while she was looking after them, I’d make a few credits here and there treating minor injuries—I helped anyone who’d show up, but it was always better when they paid. Long story short a handful of credits didn’t go far.  Word got out to the Black Sun and they recruited me to be their personal physician…which lead to…”

“To what?”

“My time as a Face Merchant.  I swear I thought I’d left all that behind me.  I never expected One to come lookin’ for me.”

“So the clone was with the Black Sun?”

“Not exactly, they brokered the face swap for him. Credits talk and he had plenty.  I was supposed to make the switch the day we left—the day your buddy Balkar showed up. Then there was the trouble with the Justicars. They attacked the refugees and Kira killed a mess of ‘em. We had no choice and the deal Balkar offered us sounded pretty good, especially when he agreed to take the refugees too—cause I knew Kira would never desert them.”

Kira returned and set out cups of caf before them.  “I’m gonna sit this one out—Kiran needs me.”

Liatrix nodded and watched her leave.

“So this man came to you, demanding you change his face and you agreed.”

“There was more to it than that.  He brought an assassin droid to make sure I went through with the surgery. If I refused he’d kill _me_ …Kira…the boy and who knows who else.”

“What happened to the droid?”

“Darmas disabled it somehow—shot it with something that fried its circuits. He was on the roof… _why_ I’ve got no idea, but I won’t lie—I’m glad he was. He saw the assassin droid forcing me to operate.”

“So Darmas came through the skylight, disabled the droid and then?”

“That droid was going to kill me and my family regardless, I saw it for myself when Darmas pulled its memory core. He saved my life and then we hid the droid in storage.”

“And did he expect anything in return?”

Doc shifted his weight and looked away.

“He did, didn’t he? What did he want in exchange for the rescue?”

“Look, I didn’t think it was a big deal, so I agreed. He wanted One’s blood and the upgraded implants he’d brought.”

“Why his blood?”

“He said it’s upgraded with self-healing nanites. They’re adaptive too—blood type doesn’t matter. I’ve read about them—they can pretty much bring you back from the dead so long as there’s an electrical charge in the heart.”

“So that’s why Darmas shot him at close range in the heart.”

“Yeah.”

“Why’d you lie?”

“I didn’t want trouble—didn’t think you’d understand…didn’t think you could forgive me for bringing this into your Alliance—not after everything you did for us…for the refugees.”

Liatrix nodded and took a sip of her caf. “So you and Darmas made all that up because you feared the repercussions.”

“Yeah,” Doc hung his head and sighed. “So what now?”

“Two things.  First off—don’t lie to me again. Something like this could’ve compromised the whole Alliance.  You should’ve told me there could be trouble.”

“And the other thing?”

“I don’t want you to breathe a word of this to Darmas.  If he brings it up, tell him you’re in the clear, that there’s nothing to worry about and that the autopsy corroborated your stories.”

“A’right. I can do that. There is one more thing you should know…”

Liatrix arched a brow. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“I found out who the face belonged to…it was Moff Ryon Kilran’s.  I transmitted a letter to the Empire—for his family—explaining that it was the Black Sun Face Merchants from Nar Shaddaa—that they killed him.  I felt I owed them that much—but I encrypted it. They won’t trace it to the Alliance, I’m sure of it.”

Liatrix set her hand over Doc’s and gave it a squeeze. “We all have reasons for the choices we make.  In your shoes—I probably would’ve done the same thing…hell…I _have_ done the same thing,” she murmured. “You have your family to protect…and you’re all a part of the Alliance and under my protection—for what it’s worth.”

“I can’t tell you what a load off this is—it’s like I’ve been carrying the whole galaxy around on my shoulders.”

Liatrix stood. “Take care of them, Doc.”

“Damn right I will. Thanks…for everything.” He stooped to kiss her cheek. “I’ll walk you out.”

She strode down the hall and when she heard the door close, she pulled out her com and tapped Quinn’s frequency.

“My lord…” Quinn responded, his image standing at attention.

“I spoke to Doc—he told me everything. Find out what the hell Darmas has been up to on the roof—discreetly. I don’t want to tip him off.”

“Understood, my lord, Quinn out.”

 

((to be continued…))

 


	40. Chapter 40

 

  

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Forty**

 

The desert backfilled every footprint Theron took away from the shuttle he’d boosted on Yavin 4.  He’d spent less than half an hour on the humid forested moon and yet he was flooded with memories. Even though the galaxy was bracing itself against a starving Emperor, Theron couldn’t help but think it was a better time in his life.

_Nothing like the threat of universal extinction to make life more precious._

The wreckage of the recently downed star fortress lay half-buried in Korriban’s sands and was the only source of shade for kilometers around.  He steadied himself against the hull with one hand and relieved himself with the other.  A smirk twitched over his lips as he finished.

_Been sayin’ it for years…finally got to do it._

His arrival had gone unchallenged and the windstorms he’d seen in Scorpio’s memory banks had died down.  He unclipped the canteen from his hip and took a swig of cool water.  The moisture faded from his lips and chin before he could recork the water-skin. 

After pressing his sack-cloth turban more firmly into place, he adjusted his goggles and shook out the sand weighing down his robes.

The statues lining the road seemed to be staring down at him, the wind giving each one a ghostly voice that sounded like a warning to turn back if he allowed himself to listen too closely.

“Just your imagination, Shan.”  He double-checked his scanner and trudged toward the structure wriggling behind the mirage ahead.

 The durasteel steps creaked under his weight.  After dispersing the sand that had collected against the door with his boot, he wedged himself against the frame and pried the door open the rest of the way.  The stench of rotting flesh met him like a slap in the face.  He had smelled death plenty of times before but the effect was always the same—it crept up his nose, and down his throat and set up camp. His stomach lurched and he swallowed the bile before he could taste its burn.

Several dusty crates lined the foyer and two K’lor’slugs hunched over the corpse as they feasted.  The twin larvae glanced up at the promise of fresh meat. Their mandibles twitched in agreement and they abandoned their meal, spewing acid at Theron as they gave chase.  Their mucous sizzled through the flooring, corroding it.

The crates provided a handy refuge.  Theron leapt behind them and fired on each slug.  The creatures shrieked and dropped. 

He pulled his neckerchief over his mouth and nose in a futile attempt to block the stench as he knelt next to the body.  He winced at the man’s bloated face and the gaping blaster hole in his chest.  He rifled through the dead man’s pockets until he found an identity chip from the Sith Academy.

“So…you were Overseer Harkun,” he muttered to himself.  “Judging by this hole in your chest you weren’t real popular.”

Blaster in hand, he explored Harkun’s quarters. A room at the end of the hall drew his attention and he went inside. Two small, shabby beds filled the back corners—one neatly made while the other appeared to have been slept in, the corner folded back as though the occupant had gotten up for some reason. 

He sifted through the shared writing desk between the beds until he found a stack of papers hidden at the back of the bottom drawer.  After re-holstering his weapon, he sat on the edge of the unmade bed and sifted through the drawings. 

The first depicted a tiny girl with tawny-red skin curled into a ball while the larger figure shot lightning at her from its twiggy hands.   

Theron sifted through the rest and winced—each picture depicting another abuse by the same large figure.  He searched the chest by the second bed and found more drawings, these more advanced and detailed than the others. 

The first picture showed a boy facing a blazing hearth with a small woman dressed in white standing amid the flames.  In the second picture, the same woman in white appeared in more detail—a human with shoulder-length brown hair and a hair chain adorning her forehead.  A line of tiny pine trees stood behind her.

_Liatrix? Odessen burning?  The hell does this even mean?_

He set the picture aside and studied the next—the same small boy standing by the fire with a tall red spiky shouldered Sith at his side.  The giant was drawn so faintly it barely showed on the page.  

_Marr…it has to be. Or am I reading what I want into these? No. It has to be him._

He flipped to the next drawing, this one of the red girl standing hand in hand with a black-cloaked wraith and the abusive man in the doorway on his knees.  The man’s face was blue and his eyes bulged. A rust-coloured tattoo divided his brows and curled under one eye.  A pointed goatee stuck out from his chin.

_Harkun._

Theron frowned and flipped to the next drawing, this one, a portrait of the woman in white and the faint spikey shouldered giant behind her.  Large blue eyes, thick dark lashes and red lips.

_It has to be her…but how did they know?_

In the final picture, fire engulfed Harkun’s dead body along with two strangers—a man and a woman. The red girl stood with them. The picture was signed at the bottom in Sith characters. Theron ran his scanner over the text for an Aurabesh/Basic translation.

 _Deston_.

Frozen and dumbfounded he stared at the pictures drawn by his son. Emotion swelled in his chest and a profound sadness touched his features. 

_But where are you?_

His heart thundered and no amount of controlled breathing would slow it. He rolled the drawings into a scroll and stowed them into his pack.

“Let’s see if we can figure out who killed you, Harkun—and where the younglings are.”

Little remained in the Overseer’s quarters that hadn’t already been packed. Theron prowled the remaining rooms and found nothing.  Defeated, he returned to the foyer and just as he was about to leave the sound of a camera iris grinding to focus behind him caught his attention. 

After considering the solid crates, he rammed his shoulder against them, shoving them just enough to reveal a security camera embedded in the com system.  “Let’s see if we can get anything off this,” he muttered under his breath. 

Five minutes later, he’d sliced into the system and swore when the visuals revealed nothing but the back of the crates.  “A’right…if I can’t see you…maybe I can _hear_ you.”

The recording scrolled backward until a series of high pitched squeaks garbled unintelligibly. When they stopped, Theron allowed the recording to play out at its normal speed. “Here we go.” 

The haughty drawl of the former Sith Empress and the gravelly voice of her pirate were unmistakable.  After increasing the volume a few settings higher, he listened, his imagination providing him with visuals to go along with their dialogue. His stomach lurched again, but this time he wasn’t sure if it was because of Harkun’s rotting corpse, or the horrible truth, that Sephna had been the one to murder him.

He ran his hand over the nape of his neck to soothe the building tension and after he was certain his next step was the right one, he blasted the recording.  The unit smoked and sparked as he walked out the door.

“Good thing I’ve got connections with the banking clan too—maybe _they’ll_ know where you went.”

 

*

 

 Vowrawn chuckled and clapped.  “Wonderful move m’dear. It appears to me you are a natural at Dejarik.  You’re certain you’ve never played before, not even once?”

Sephna shook her head.  “Lord Harkun didn’t like games.  He told us to stop playing even when we weren’t.”

“I hope you didn’t take his advice.  Life _is_ a game. It’s meant to be played and to survive, you must learn to play well—and the prizes you win along the way, are well worth the effort.”

“Can I have my flat cakes now?”

“Of course my dear,” Vowrawn said, pushing her winnings forward. “You won them, fair and square—but never be afraid to employ a little guile to win and never leave your opponent feeling as though they’ve lost everything. The desperate make savage opponents.”

Sephna pushed two biscuits back to him. “Lord Vowrawn…what’s _guile_?”

“That my dear is when we trick our opponents into believing what we want them to believe. Guile is the most important weapon in a Sith’s arsenal.”

“Will you teach me how to guile?”

Vowrawn chuckled. “By the time I’m through with you, I’ll need to watch my flat cakes more closely.”

Sephna giggled and they bumped their cookies together in a playful toast.

 

Across the common room, Nox rolled her eyes.  “Will you look at that? She won’t be happy until she has _both_ of you twisted around her little finger.”

Andronikos set a tumbler of Corellian whiskey in front of her. “Hmph. Looks to me like the old man’s found himself a reason for living that ain’t _you_.”

“Oh wipe that damn smirk off your face,” Nox hissed.

“Someone’s jealous.”

“Wouldn’t you be? First, you have her primped and fussed over like an Alderaanian fluff-pup and ply her with candy and now _he’s_ teaching her tricks.”

 “Aw stop giving her the side eye. She’s just a kid. You haven’t talked to ‘er. _I_ _have_. That fluff-pup as you like to call her had never even _seen_ candy before, never mind taste it.  And _she’s_ the lucky one—her brother, gettin’ sold to the Hutts…wouldn’t wanna be him. Hmph.”

A faraway look dislodged the annoyance in her expression. Mindlessly, she set down her drink. Her mouth opened as though she were about to speak, but nothing came out.

Andronikos cocked his head. “What?”

Nox left the table without answering and crossed the room. Sephna shrank into the booth and looked up warily.

“What does your brother look like, Sephna? Tell me.”

“He looks like Nik—not like us,” she murmured, glancing back at Vowrawn for support. “But his eyes are gold—not blue.”

“Your eyes are grey like mine—one of your parents was human?”

Sephna nodded.

“Which one?”

“Our mother.”

Nox turned her back to the child and paced, the edge of her thumbnail digging into her lower lip. “Your brother is human—how old is he?”

“He’s seven—like me. We’re twins.”

“That’s odd. He has messy brown hair?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And he melts things when he’s scared or angry?”

Sephna leapt out of the booth, eyes wide.  “How did _you_ know!?”

“Because I saw him at a Hutt slave auction,” Nox said calmly.

Andronikos swirled his drink. “The one the Wrath bought.”

“The very same. Which means we won’t find him on Nar Shaddaa with the Hutts,” Nox said. “Fernal took him to the Hand.”

Vowrawn’s brow arched and he stood to set a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Which means, they must’ve taken him to their temple on JanFathal. Few know of it, but I make it a point to learn these things.”

“I’ll reset our course for the Fath system,” Andronikos muttered as he ambled back to the cockpit.

 

*

 

Darth Fernal watched in silence as the procession of elite scarlet-robed guards took their seats in the chancel of the Hand’s temple on JanFathal.  Servant One and Servant Two took their places behind the altar and muttered their incantations to begin the ritual.

Red and black banners hung from the rafters and along the nave walls. Tri-pronged torches illuminated the chamber, the writhing orange flames casting ominous shadows on the walls and ceiling.

A pair of black-robed Imperial guards with smooth featureless masks strode alongside the hover-stretcher carrying the unconscious boy Fernal had purchased at the slave auction on Nar Shaddaa.

Puffs of bitter incense wafted across the altar from the floating censers as the guards transferred the boy from the stretcher.

Fernal drummed her fingers against her elbow and shifted her weight from foot to foot. She yawned under her mask and cursed the stifling heat inside the temple.

“Today we bear witness to the return of our ultimate master,” Servant One began.

Servant Two nodded sagely and added his cryptic response.  “The chalice _will_ be filled.”

The servants turned their palms upward and chanted in the ancient Sith tongue.  A marble of blue light formed over their hands and ghostly streaks of their own essence coiled around the light as it grew.

“Silence him and his Voice shall grow stronger. Challenge him and his Will shall subjugate you. Defy him and his Wrath shall vanquish you. Kill him and he will be reborn.  He that cannot die will live again! Return to us, oh mighty Master.”

The torch flames roared and turned an eerie indigo-blue.

“The body shall be nourished!” Servant Two cried.

The glowing ball of blue light floated over the boy’s chest and Fernal recognized it as Vitiate’s essence.  Servant One opened the boy’s robes and painted arcane symbols on his chest in blood. 

Fernal frowned and strode closer to the altar. “Wrap this up. We have a problem.”

“The Wrath will hold her tongue. Our Master’s return cannot be rushed.”

“The grapes must age to make the wine,” Servant Two chimed in.

“Shut it, old man. We have a problem—I sense intruders.  You’d sense them too if you weren’t plastered by these fumes. I fulfilled my end of the bargain—I brought you the vessel you wanted. I’m leaving and if I catch either of you or your Opticrons within sniffing distance of my family, I will _end_ you all.”

“You will pay for your insolence, Wrath.”

The ball of light descended into the boy’s chest and his body heaved.  His eyes snapped open, golden eyes brightening to a harsh yellow before his body fell back to the altar.

“I suspect we all will if we don’t leave _now_ ,” Fernal grumbled.

The temple doors shuddered. Servant Two muttered to himself and passed his hands over the boy’s body. “It is done.”

“We must protect the Master.” Servant One snatched the child from the altar and flung himself out the elaborate windows behind him.

 

Fernal’s blade growled to life in her hand. She leapt from the apse to face the seated guards in the chancel. “On your feet, men. Protect your Masters.”

The doors to the narthex flew open and Imperial troopers poured into the temple.

“Fools,” Fernal growled and charged at the front line, but before she could cut them down a shrill squeal echoed through the chamber.  Fernal dropped her weapon and clutched her head to deaden the sound invading her mind.

Her knees gave and she crumbled to the floor. The Imperial guards collapsed behind her and in a final act of defiance and sheer will she pulled the detonator from her belt and activated it. Bright coloured sparks clouded her vision as she lobbed the device in the direction of piercing wail. She crawled on her belly and took cover under one of the bulky Veshok wood pews.  A great roar ripped through the temple just as Fernal’s awareness gave way to darkness.

 

The Servants tumbled onto the moist jungle loam outside the temple window, but before they could recover from their escape, an unseen force coiled about their throats and pinched the life from their bodies. 

The Imperial platoon parted to allow Darth Jadus through.  He stepped over the bodies of the dead servants and stood over the unconscious boy.

“Take him. Keep him sedated and contained in a Force Dampening unit—then bring him to my chambers.”

The Platoon Captain bowed.  “Yes, Lord Jadus, at once.” 

 

((to be continued…))


	41. Chapter 41

  

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Forty-One**

 

 

A vibrant orange light lit up Liatrix’s face as images of the attacks on Coruscant and Dromund Kaas flickered over the holonet.  Lana stood at Liatrix’s shoulder, both women stony-faced as they watched the report.

“They’re blaming _us_ , Lana.”

“Yes and I’ve been monitoring chatter all morning.  It appears the Republic and the Empire are already in talks to form a coalition against us.  Some have gone as far as suggesting a peace treaty will be signed.”

“We need to stop that from happening, but we have a bigger problem on our plates—those bombs—they’re _ours_.”

“Which means we have a mole.”

Liatrix nodded.  “Where’s Jonas? Is he with Theron?”

“I don’t think so. Jonas is running an inspection on the _Gravestone_ —to ensure all the damages have been repaired and that it remains uncompromised. Come to think of I haven’t seen Theron since the night before last.”

Quinn strode into the war room but kept his distance.  Dark circles shadowed his eyes and a day’s stubble darkened his jaw.

“I need to talk to Quinn—why don’t you go check on Theron, he needs to be briefed and I’d like his input.”

“Of course, Commander.”

Quinn and Lana exchanged polite greetings as they passed.  “My Lord, I need to speak with you, in private.”

“There’s no one else here yet.”

Quinn’s brow lifted as he cocked his head.  “If you’ll join me for caf.”

“All right,” Liatrix drawled and followed him into one of the anterooms.  Inside, a T3 unit whirred and beeped at their arrival.

 “Broadcast white noise for one-half hour,” Quinn said.

The droid’s dome whirred in agreement and it retreated to the corner to begin its transmission.

“Clearly, you found something on the roof.”

“Yes, my lord and I couldn’t chance being overheard.”

“So what was Darmas up to?”

“Not only did he install listening devices throughout the base, he’d planted several of our own incendiaries from Iokath—enough to blast a crater into Odessen’s northern hemisphere.”

Liatrix blanched.  “We have to get everyone out…where is he now?”

“The cantina, but—that won’t be necessary, my lord.  I took it upon myself to locate and neutralize all of the bombs. I did, however, leave the listening devices intact, so that he wouldn’t suspect we’re onto him.”

“Well, that answers the question I had earlier about our mole.”

“My lord?”

“Dromund Kaas and Coruscant were attacked with our bombs and men wearing our insignia. It’s all over the holonet.  The Republic and the Empire are taking measures to unite against us—there’s even a rumor of a treaty being in the works. They’re making _us_ out to be the bad guys.”

“That would mean Pollaran is in league with one of them.”

“Given his past as an Imperial Agent, I’m inclined to think he’s working for Jadus.”

“We can’t be completely certain, my lord. He did spend decades in the Republic and my research indicates he had a major falling out with your father and Darth Ravage, both. Were it not for the Keeper’s intervention he would’ve been executed.”

“At this point, it doesn’t matter _who_ he’s working for—he’s an enemy and he needs to be dealt with.”

“And what steps will you take against Agent Balkar? He _is_ Pollaran’s son.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s in on it.” Liatrix shook her head. “Jonas wouldn’t—he _couldn’t_ do something like this—putting innocent lives at risk—there are children here. You two might not get along, but Jonas _is_ a good man.”

“I hope he’s worthy of your confidence, my lord. So—you believe Pollaran is working alone?”

“I sure as hell hope so.” Liatrix frowned.  “His listening devices are audio only?”

“It would appear so, my lord.”

“We need to deal with him—before he does maker only knows what to the base. Assemble a squadron and meet me at the cantina.”

“My lord, I do have one suggestion.”

“What is it?”

“Might I recommend we interrogate Pollaran _prior_ to his execution?  He may yield useful information under the appropriate inducements.”

“All right, we’ll ask questions _first_ this time.”

“Excellent, my lord. If there is nothing further, I’ll see to the men. Tee-three, discontinue white noise broadcast.”

 

*

 

Kiran peered around the corner into the cantina.  An older blond man sat at one of the tables with his caf and a datapad.  A crew of smugglers having finished their meal sauntered out to prepare for their next mission.  The protocol droids stood at the rear of the cantina, the Imperial model babbling to a pair of astromechs.

The golden protocol droid waved the boy over and Kiran zipped across the cavernous room to meet him.

“Good day Life-Day Lieutenant Kiran.”

“Cee-two, uh, good day to you too. I found all that stuff you wanted.” Kiran slipped his rucksack from his shoulders and began unpacking it.

“Excellent, the Force Enclave will be most grateful for the meditation cushions.”

“Maybe not—they need to be stuffed first.”  Kiran held up a flat square of green material.

“A minor inconvenience. And the Alderaanian nectar?”

“Got that too. Gault said he was going to add it to my tab. What’s that mean anyway?”

Cee-two pondered, golden fingers tapping his chin. “I believe that means you will owe him a favour at a later time at his determination.”

“Oh, okay. You sure Professor Ogurrobb will like it? My science homework is due today. I want him to be in a good mood, Cee-two.”

“Master Kiran, I promise the Professor will enjoy it immensely.”

“Sure hope so.”  Kiran looked around thoughtfully. “Do you know what the Commander likes? I want to get her a present. She looks sad.”

“I do not know, Master Kiran. Humanoid women tend to enjoy something called chocolate. Or perhaps some flowers from the meadow.”

“Flowers are boring. Where can I get chocolate?”

“I believe there is some behind the counter, Master Kiran.  On the lowest shelf.”

“Thanks, Cee-two.”

*

 

Quinn led the squadron into the cantina and Liatrix followed.  Kiran snuck out from behind the counter, chocolate packets in hand and lingered by the exit to watch.

“Darmas Pollaran, you are under arrest for crimes against the Alliance,” Quinn announced.

Darmas set his cup onto its saucer with a clink and eyed Quinn and the squadron languidly. “Why General, this is a surprise.  And the Commander too.  So, I’m to be arrested—may I ask on what charges?”

“You know what you did,” Quinn snarled. “We found the bombs and the listening devices. Who are you working for?”

“And how did you come to the conclusion that it was _me_?”

Liatrix moved closer to the table. “Why else were you on the roof the day of One’s death?”

“Ah, you and the good doctor have been talking I see.  I was, of course, installing the listening devices you mentioned.  Call it habit, I _am_ an information broker, however, I assure you, Commander, I _am_ working on the Alliance’s behalf—to ensure no one is plotting against you.”

“And of course you had nothing at all to do with the bombs being stolen along with our insignias.”

“Of course not.  You may, however, wish to question Theron Shan on that count. He’s been helping the Republic for some time. Assuming you can find him,” Darmas drawled.  “The guilty have a habit of—running away.”

“ _That_ , was the wrong thing to say, Darmas. I trust Theron—I don’t trust _you_.  Cuff him and take him to the brig for interrogation,” Liatrix commanded.

“I don’t think so Commander,” Darmas clasped his wrist and stood. 

The shrill screech of his FFA Chrono rang out.  Liatrix dropped to her knees and the troopers clenched their helmets. 

Quinn winced and braced himself against the table to draw his pistol. “Get the Commander to safety! Now!”

Darmas pulled his blaster from under his jacket. He backed away, half-jogging as he glanced over his shoulder to make his getaway.

Blood oozed from Liatrix’s nostrils and ears as she lost consciousness. A pair of troopers snatched her up by her arms and dragged her to the rear of the cantina as the remainder of the company recovered from the deafening noise.

“After him!” Quinn shouted to the remaining men.

“You might want to rethink that, General.”  Darmas taunted, revealing himself just enough to show off his hostage. Teary-eyed, Kiran dropped the chocolate. Darmas tightened his stranglehold on the boy and butted the muzzle of his blaster against the child’s head.

“Try to stop me, and I’ll splatter this boy’s brain all over your base.”  Darmas dragged the writhing boy outside.

Quinn tossed his com to one of the men.  “Contact Odessen control.  Do _not_ allow him to take off. Shoot him out of the sky if necessary!”

“Yes sir,” the soldier grunted.

Quinn ducked behind the cantina’s entrance, pistol at the ready.  The loading dock was unusually free of traffic and the _Gravestone_ hovered next to the landing pad, by its moorings.

Darmas dragged the boy up the ramp and Quinn darted across the dock to take cover behind a stack of crates.

“Release the boy, Pollaran. He’s of no use to you,” Quinn warned.

“I beg to differ, General.  I’m finding him _very_ useful.”  Darmas edged up the ramp leading to the entrance of the _Gravestone._

“Let him go, father,” Jonas’s voice growled from behind Darmas, followed by the click of his blaster’s safety.

Darmas shoved Kiran forward, sending the boy tumbling down the ramp to the dock.  Quinn rushed out from behind the crates to claim the boy and pull him back to take cover.

“And what is it you intend to do now, m’boy?”  Darmas stuffed his left hand into his front trouser pocket as he made a show of releasing his blaster.

“Something I should’ve done a long time ago,” Jonas said, pulling the trigger to send a volley of bolts into his father’s torso.

At that moment Darmas depressed the detonator in his pocket.  The _Gravestone_ erupted into a massive ball of flame, the explosion launching Jonas and Darmas both into the air toward the base. 

Flaming debris rained from the sky to crash on the loading dock.  The fire generated a smog of thick black smoke.  Quinn coughed and seized the boy between his arms.  “Are you hurt?”

Kiran shook his head but stared at Quinn with teary eyes. 

“Good.  Are you able to return to your quarters on your own?”

Kiran shook his head again. 

“Very well. I’ll get one of the men to take you home.  Come along.”  He pulled the boy toward the cantina and passed him off to one of the troopers. “Take the boy home—and inform his father of what’s happened.  We’re going to need his assistance with the wounded.”

“No need sir—his family—they’re over there,” the trooper pointed toward the entrance.

Kira and Doc emerged from the base, wild-eyed and panicked.  Kira wove through the crates and wounded to search. “Kiran!” She shouted through the smoke.

“He’s here,” Quinn replied and urged the boy toward his mother. 

The two embraced and Kira swept him into her arms and rushed back inside the base.

Doc approached Quinn, “What the hell happened?”

“Long story. We need to clear the wounded from the dock—it won’t hold much longer. The flames are melting the support beams.”

Lana emerged from the entrance to the war room elevator and paled at the burning carnage before her.  She clamped her mouth as she took in what remained of the _Gravestone._ “Jonas…”  She started for the wreckage when a familiar jacket caught her eye. She dashed for the unmoving figure and slid in beside him.

“Jonas—this can’t be…Jonas, _please_. Wake up.”  She turned him over and pressed her fingers to his neck.  “Jonas…”

He groaned beneath her, his head lolling first left then right. A cough sputtered over his lips and his eyes opened.

“Thank the maker, I thought I’d lost you,” Lana whispered. “Was there anyone with you aboard the _Gravestone_?”

Jonas’s brows met as he struggled to process her words. “Tora…her crew…are they?”

Lana glanced over her shoulder and nodded. “It would appear so. Was Theron with you?”

“No…”

 

((to be continued…))


	42. Chapter 42

 

   

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Forty-Two**

 

 Andronikos peered through a copse of rubbery leafed palms on JanFathal. Thin curls of smoke lifted from the debris to fog his view. His fingers ticked over the adjustment reel of his macrobinoculars and his focus cleared. 

An avalanche of rubble clogged the entrance and the purple vines marbling the surviving walls seemed to be the only thing holding them up.  The flaky jungle soil had been packed hard by many pairs of boots.

“Hmph. Doesn’t look like there’s a lot left,” he muttered.

“Let me see.” Nox snatched the macrobinoculars from his grip. “Someone got here ahead of us—but who?”

Vowrawn took a turn next and scanned the trees over the temple. “Whoever they were, they’re gone now. I suspect we’ll find our answers inside.”

“Okay then. Let’s make this quick—get in, get out before any locals start sniffin’ around.”

Andronikos clamped Sephna’s shoulder.  “You stick close to me, y’hear? Don’t go wanderin’ off.”

“I won’t.”

“Let’s move,” Nox ordered.

They marched up the slight incline, walking alongside the dedicated pathway on the grass, in case of land mines.

Andronikos took stock of the damage and frowned.  “There’s more rock here than I thought,” he complained.  “Care to do the honours?”

Nox shifted the debris with as much effort as it took to wave her hand, but before she could venture inside, she felt a tug at her skirts.

Sephna looked up in awe.  “Can you teach me that?”

Nox stared at the curious child and recognized the same eager gleam in her eyes that she herself had at that age and understood what it meant. “Aren’t you the little scholar?” She purred dangerously.

“Teach me—so I can survive. _Please_?”

“Later, perhaps,” Nox said. “ _If_ you behave.”

“If you’re done yakkin’ let’s go.  Sooner we get off this rock the better,” Andronikos grumbled.

Nox’s brow arched into a spearhead as she stalked past the pirate and he stifled a snort of laughter.

Inside, torn, blackened banners dangled from the few undamaged rafters and heaps of dusty robes covered the dead guards and membership of the Emperor’s Hand.

“This must be bringin’ some memories back, huh, old man? Try not to get crushed this time.”

Vowrawn’s smile didn’t reach his eyes but the red in them sparked with malice. “Death is not to be feared—consciousness continues _beyond_ …at least it does for those of us favored with the Force.”

Sephna froze.  “Lord Vowrawn—does that mean when Nik dies—he’ll be gone—forever? He c-can’t use the Force.” Panic sharpened her voice and her eyes shone with fresh tears.

“Good job. You’re upsettin’ the kid.”

Vowrawn smiled placidly. “My dear, of _course,_ Andronikos will become one with the Force. All living things do—right down to the lowliest roach. He can be found, _if_ we wish to find him.”

Sephna gazed up at Vowrawn. “So Nik can’t be a ghost and visit me after he dies?”

“What do _you_ know of ghosts?” Nox asked.

“Nothing,” Sephna yipped a little too quickly and hung her head.

“Could we _not_ talk about my death,” Andronikos growled. “I’m _right_ here.”

“Sorry, Nik,” Sephna whispered. “I don’t want you to die— _never_ e _ver_.”

“Relax, kid. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Nox scowled at the exchange and knelt to examine the dusty robe clad bodies.  “If I were to guess, I’d say someone threw a thermal detonator in here.”

“Doesn’t look like any of ‘em made it out alive.”

“Someone must have—look,” Vowrawn nodded at the broken window over the chancel.

“Maybe that’s where the detonator came in? It would explain why there’s more damage to the front of the temple,” Nox said.

“If that were the case m’dear, the shards would be inside, not out.” Vowrawn tugged on the fledgling tendrils flanking his chin. “Given the pattern of destruction, the detonator was thrown toward the door from the center aisle—no more than halfway.”

Sephna drifted toward the altar beneath the broken window and stared at the surface.  Without thinking she traced the edges and walked the perimeter of the stone slab.  Gingerly she set her hand on the cold stone and sobbed.

Nox cocked her head.  “Sephna?”

Andronikos navigated the bodies and took the steps up to the chancel two at a time. “What’s the matter? You sensin’ something?”

“Deston was here—they smothered him,” she whimpered.

“You mean he’s dead?” Andronikos asked.

“No—they _smothered_ him.”

“What do you mean by smothered, Sephna? I sense no ghosts here,” Nox prodded.

Her hands curled into fists and she stomped her left foot. “He’s _not_ dead. He’s been squished…to make room—he’s not by himself.”

Vowrawn knelt to sample the incense inside the broken censers. He spat out the bitter herbs, his gaze panning over the warped tri-pronged torches.  “The Hand performed _The Ritual of Transference_ here—only hours ago—and it appears they succeeded.”

“How can you tell?” Nox pondered.

“My theory is that they finished the ritual and when confronted with the attack, the Servants escaped with the boy through these windows.  They couldn’t chance the Emperor’s new vessel being destroyed.”

Nox’s eyes widened in a look of dawning.  “So, our former Emperor has a new host.”

Sephna’s lower lip trembled and she held herself.

“Question is though—where is he _now_?” Andronikos prowled through the debris toward the dense wooden pews flanking the aisle.  “Barely a scratch,” he muttered to himself as he traced the hardwood.

Nox swept the dust from her hands and glared at the chipped nail on her left hand. “Perhaps he was taken…by whoever did _this_.”

Vowrawn drew the girl close.  “We’ll find him,” he whispered. “No need to fret, child.”

“But how will we get the Emperor out?” Sephna whined. She threw her arms around him and wept into his shoulder.

“I’ll devour him,” Nox crooned her threat.

“You can do that?” Sephna peeked over at her, her voice shaky.

Nox’s mouth lifted cryptically at the corners and her eyes gleamed like sharpened daggers.

Andronikos dove into the rubble, desperately pawing at the debris.

“Did you find something? What is it?”

“There’s a Sith buried under here—I think she’s still alive,” he barked, dragging handfuls of stone away.

Nox dashed to his side and with a sweep of her arm, the remaining rubble shifted to one side.

“Let’s turn her over,” Andronikos suggested. “On three. One—two— _three_.”

Together they gently turned the woman over and Nox gasped. “It’s Darth Fernal—the Wrath.”

“Could barely tell, with all that dust on her.”

Vowrawn slid in next to Fernal’s unconscious body.  “My dear—it’s _me_ —Vowrawn,” he whispered. “Somewhat new and improved, I realize...”

“She’s not responding,” Nox said. “We need to get her back to the ship at once.”

“There’s a hover-stretcher over there…lemme see if it still works,” Andronikos barked.

Vowrawn curled her body to his chest, gingerly lifting her out of the ruins.

“Quinn…” Fernal croaked almost inaudibly as he carried her toward the stretcher. Tears snaked through the dust caking her cheeks, leaving a wake of red skin.

“Uh. It’s a little beat up, but still works,” Andronikos announced, steering the stretcher in beside Vowrawn.

 

*

 

Doc dabbed the sweat from his brow with his cuff.  For the first time since his arrival, every bed in the infirmary was occupied—a sea of sleeping grey and white.  After updating his patient log, he powered down the kolto tanks after running them almost constantly over the last twenty-eight hours. 

“Finally, a quiet moment,” he muttered to himself and dialed home.  Kira’s image hovered over his com unit, her shoulders drooping and her expression haggard.

“How’s he doing?”

“Finally got him to sleep, but I had to give him a sedative. He wouldn’t stop shaking. He thinks the Commander is dead. He wanted to see her.”

“What’d you tell him?”

“That she’ll be fine.  Did I lie to him?”

“Her vitals are stable, I’m just waiting for the neurological scan to complete.”

“You sound worried.”

“I won’t lie…something’s off—just not sure what yet.”

“When are you coming home?”

“Half-hour maybe? Gotta wrap things up here first. Scourge is with her and you know what he’s like. Needed this like a lightsaber through the head.”

“Yeah, I know—just remember the past is past. Come home. We need you.”

“’K. See you in a bit.”

After Kira’s image fizzled, he glanced over his shoulder at the small room off the main ward. Scourge’s shadow moved along the walls and Doc knew he was growing impatient for answers.

“May as well get it over with,” he grumbled and sauntered back to his workstation.  He studied the neurological scan and rammed his hands through his hair.

Steeling himself, he strode into the private room. Liatrix slept and Scourge hovered over her like a Vask-wolf protecting a slab of nerf-meat.

“Took you long enough. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me. Has there been any change to her condition?”

“Her vitals are stable,” Doc hesitated, “but neurological scans indicate extensive damage to her cerebellar function.”

Scourge folded his arms. “Explain.”

“She’ll have difficulty coordinating visual cues with physical movement, maintaining balance—which means she’ll have trouble walking, running. She may have difficulty discerning where to stop and is at risk for falls.”

“Which means she won’t be able to fight.”

Doc turned his attention back to Liatrix’s bed. “Anything she does that relies on visual cues will be affected—so, yeah.”

Scourge looked away and grimaced.

“How do you tell someone their entire life is about to change?”

“You don’t. I don’t accept your diagnosis.”

“Do you think I enjoy telling you this? Scans don’t lie.  See for yourself,” Doc said, thrusting his data pad at him.

Scourge snatched the pad from his hands and glared at the erratic tangle of lines.  “Is there anything to be done?”

Doc sighed. “With physiotherapy, she may relearn how to walk without stumbling. It’ll take effort—patience—but I doubt she’ll ever fight again.”

“Leave us,” Scourge growled.

“If you need anything call a med droid. I haven’t slept in thirty-six hours. I’m done.”

Scourge said nothing. Doc stripped his lab coat as he left and flung it at his workstation on the way out.

 

Once Doc was gone, Scourge returned to Liatrix’s side and hurled the datapad to the foot end of the bed.  Her chest rose and fell with serene, measured breaths.  The occasional flutter under her eyelids suggested she was dreaming—perhaps the lull before the storm.

He set his hand over hers, her flesh cool against his palm.  Before he could lose himself in his thoughts, he felt Quinn’s presence in the doorway and turned to face him.

“Lord Scourge, pardon my intrusion.  I came to enquire if there’s been any change in the Commander’s condition?”  His gaze fell onto the datapad and he started toward it but waited for permission before inspecting it. “I trust these are her test results?”

Scourge gave his permission with an upturned hand and Quinn studied the data.  He moved closer to the window and Scourge followed.

“Does she know?”  Quinn asked.

“Not yet.  She hasn’t regained consciousness since the attack.”

“Given what I witnessed in the cantina, I believe I recognize the device that incapacitated her.  A few years ago I became aware of a device called an FFA Chrono. It’s an Imperial design capable of disabling—even killing a Force user. I was working with Lana Beniko and the others at the time.”

“Why would the empire invent such a device?”

“Darth Jadus commissioned it for use against the Jedi. The weapon, however, didn’t discriminate and proved to be deadly against the Sith as well and was discontinued for that reason. Cipher Nine assured us the vault where the plans were kept was secure. Somehow Pollaran managed to acquire a copy of the device.”

“Was he working for Jadus?”

“It’s a possibility, but we’re not completely certain.  We were unable to learn who he was working for.”

“Where is Pollaran now?” Scourge grunted.

“Balkar shot him in the chest at point-blank range, however, we’ve been unable to retrieve the body. The explosion destroyed the loading dock and what little remained collapsed and fell into the gorge taking the body with it. I have men scouring the area—I need to be certain he’s dead.”

“And Balkar, he survived?”

“Yes—only minor injuries, I treated him myself. He was fortunate, Lana had him removed from the platform just prior to its collapse.”

“Is that the extent of it?”

“Regrettably not, my lord. Aside from the heavy damage to the base, the Alliance has been framed for attacks on Dromund Kaas and Coruscant, the _Gravestone_ destroyed beyond repair and the engineering crew is dead. If that weren’t enough Theron Shan appears to be missing and there is some evidence that he’s been in contact with the Republic...and now _this_.  I dread to tell her,” Quinn said, gesturing at the datapad.

“Tell her _what_?”  Liatrix murmured.

Quinn stiffened, “My lord…you’re awake.”

Scourge glanced back at her over his shoulder.  “Leave us. I’ll tell her myself.”

“Understood. I’ll leave you to it. My lords,” Quinn said with a stiff bow before taking his leave.

 

((to be continued…))

      


	43. Chapter 43

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Forty-Three**

 

 

Scourge returned to Liatrix’s side after Quinn left.  The bright infirmary lights washed out her complexion and the greyish half-moons under her eyes were dark against skin that was too white. The light turned everything stark and cold and he hated it.  

“The last time you and I spoke, we did so in darkness and shadow—and though our secrets were laid bare in a gentler light, their truths were no less harsh.”

She turned onto her side to face him.  “I’m not going to like this am I.”

“No, my Lord Emperor, I’m certain you won’t.”

“I heard you and Quinn before. Everything’s gone to hell—makes me wonder what you’re holding back? Judging from the look on your face it must be pretty bad.”

“The device Pollaran used to incapacitate you damaged your cerebellar function—which means your physical coordination has been compromised—walking will be difficult, never mind dueling.”

A thin sheen of moisture glazed her eyes but stopped just short of forming tears. “Is there a cure?”

“The doctor mentioned physiotherapy—patience and practice will help…”

“But there’s no guarantee I’ll recover.”

“When Pollaran is found he will pay dearly for what he’s done,” Scourge threatened.

“I can’t just lie here,” she said hoisting herself up to sit. “This is crazy.  I’m fine. I _feel_ fine.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and pushed off the edge.

“What are you doing?”

“Proving to you that this is nonsense,” she growled.  “I’m _not_ finished. I have too much to do—there’s no time for this.” She stood with the mattress bracing the back of her legs.  Panic flickered in her eyes and she put her hands out for balance.

Scourge moved in to support her, but she tugged free. 

Her eyes flashed. “I can do this.” 

She staggered forward and took a step and then another and another.  Scourge looked on, his body tensing with every step she took.  He reproached himself for being so quick to believe the doctor’s diagnosis.  Clearly, the tests were wrong and he had been foolish to believe the worst.

Then she fell.

Dashing to her side did nothing except reduce the full brunt of the fall on her knees and wrists.  His fingers dug into her shoulders as she sank into her haunches. 

Her lower lip quivered and tears threatened to spill. “It’s all over. Is this how it ends?”

Scourge took a knee beside her, tilting her chin up gently to meet his gaze.  “It’s a setback—that’s all this is. Nothing more.”  He enfolded her in his arms.  She remained stoic, her body stiff against him until something gave inside her and she relented, hugging him in return. 

The scent of flames kindled from a sweet mellow timber curled about his senses and took him back to his childhood when his mother dried rings of spiced apple over a low fire until they formed crisp chips.  Her scent was different than he remembered it—but no less beloved.  The longer he lingered against her the more it beguiled him until all else was forgotten and he knew he was home. 

“No one can see me like this,” she breathed against him, breaking the spell. “Weak, useless,” she continued.

“You are neither weak nor useless. We _will_ weather this. We’ll find a way.”

She pulled back just enough to look up at him, with tearful eyes. “Take me home, I can’t be here.”

“Whatever my Lord Emperor desires.”

 

*

 

The _Sky Princess II_ broke orbit around JanFathal and after a brief dash through hyperspace the vessel drifted into a quiet patch of space along the Outer Rim. 

Andronikos sank into his chair and indulged in the peace that came with floating in the middle of nowhere. Thoughts of better times roamed his mind—the low fading drone of the engines and Nox’s wanting fingers caressing flesh so hardened he was amazed he could feel anything at all.  The sensation wasn’t to last and he was plucked from his reverie by the voices at the back of the ship.

His ‘co-pilot’ dozed in the chair beside him, head bobbing until her chin touched her chest and then snapping back again as if even sleeping was a fight.

Andronikos scooped the sleepy girl up in his arms.  She woke just enough to look at him with heavy hooded eyes and yawned. “Nik?”

“Gonna put you to bed, a’right?”

Sephna nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck, her forehead resting against the side of his neck. Nox’s gaze followed them across the common area until they disappeared into the berth.

He set the child onto the bunk she liked best and covered her.  Before leaving, he pressed the toy Loth-Cat he’d bought her against her arm to cuddle.

“Sleep tight, kid.”  He closed the door and ambled into the common area to help himself to a drink.

Vowrawn emerged from the sickbay and joined Andronikos at the bar. 

Nox cradled her drink and put her feet up across the booth’s bench seat. “Has she regained consciousness yet?”

“Not yet, but I’m hoping she will very soon.”  Vowrawn plucked a glass from the tray on the counter and filled it. “You’re welcome to join us, m’dear,” he said gesturing to the sickbay.

“I’m fine here—after traipsing about all day, I’m feeling lazy. Let me know when she wakes.”

“Then I shall leave you to your lazing.” Vowrawn looked between them and returned to the sickbay.  His eyes widened and his mouth erupted in a flash of white teeth.  “My dear Wrath, you’re awake.”

Fernal sat up and cocked her head. One brow crept into her forehead and her eyes narrowed.  “Vowrawn?”

“In the flesh…”

“But not your own—stars, I _know_ you…er rather _him_ …Lord Abaron from the academy.”

“Indeed, the very same.”

She swung her legs over the side of the bed to let them dangle. “So she did it…she brought you back,” Fernal said shaking her head. “Honestly, I didn’t believe it possible.  You hear the stories, but I thought they were just that… _stories._ ”

“You’ve always chosen to put your belief in more tangible pursuits.”

“I believe in what _I_ can do, with my fists and my lightsaber. Baras always said the esoteric aspects of our culture were beyond me.  Sadly, he was right on that score.”

“We all have our gifts and you are an ideal Wrath.” Vowrawn bowed his head and looked away.

“You’re troubled.”

“No more than usual.”

“That’s not like you—the Vowrawn _I_ remember never had a moment's disquiet.  I may have taken a few rocks to the skull, but I can tell you’re not yourself,” she shook her head and corrected herself, “aside from your body.”

“I would be lying if I said I wasn’t concerned, my dear Wrath.  What happened in the temple?”

Her brows puckered and her gaze grew far away. “Our Master has a new vessel—our associates finished the ritual and then,” she shook her head slowly to clear her memories.

“Take your time, m’dear.”

“Jadus—he and his men invaded.” She sat up straighter and her jaw dropped, her expression suddenly and terribly alert. “The Emperor…what happened to the boy?”

Vowrawn watched her intently. “We don’t know for certain—but it appears he was taken.  His body was not among the others.”

“Jadus has our Emperor.”  Her fists tightened and her teeth gnashed.

“My dear, I must ask you, how loyal are you to our ultimate master?”

“Why? Perhaps I ought to ask you the same question?”

“While I’ve always been a proponent of guile, this is not the time for dishonesty or trickery. I have been working actively against our Emperor and his Hand since Rishi. I realize we haven’t had an opportunity to discuss this…until now.”

“Then, it appears we’re on the same page—more or less.”

Vowrawn folded his arms. “That concerns me, my dear Wrath.”

“It needn’t. You were the one to tell me about the opticrons, after all.  That they would spy on me…I’ve been nothing but loyal.”

“I suppose they couldn’t chance another betrayal, Wrath.”

“You really ought to start calling me by my name. I _know_ we’re family—Nox told me.”

“Yes, when you so graciously supplied your blood for her ritual.”

“ _Her_ ritual—the way you say that suggests it’s not what _you_ wanted.”

“What you lack in the esoteric, you make up for with perception. Death is not to be feared, my dear Fernal. I was content. It truly is the next great adventure.”

“I can’t believe _you_ of all people relished being…dead. You were so full of life. Among other things,” she teased.

“That I was,” he said, smiling.

“So who am I to you, Vowrawn?”

“You’re my granddaughter.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before? I would’ve welcomed knowing the truth. I always had a feeling the Force drew us together for a reason greater than eluding Baras.”

“I,” he began, hesitating, “was ashamed.”

“Of me?”

“No my dear, never of _you_ —but of my daughter—your mother.”

“Explain.”

“Like many young men, I had ambitions, but I also had needs. I was reckless—suffice it to say, one of the women I was with, Ixiar, became pregnant and died giving birth to my Force-blind daughter.”

“My mother…”

“Yes.  Suddenly I found myself responsible for a life I never wanted and to further my shame she had little connection to the Force. I did all I could to keep this secret, and yet I was found out by an enemy who used her to control my actions for years.”

“I don’t remember her—but I knew there was quite a stigma attached to a pureblood with no connection to the Force.”

“It was the greatest shame a Sith family could know at the time—I couldn’t keep her.  What would I do with a child at seventeen? Perhaps if her mother had lived, I might have done right by her, married her—but instead, I gave Farine to a good family to raise.”

“What happened to her?”

“She grew into a beautiful young woman—beautiful enough that she caught the eye of your father,” Vowrawn hissed.

“You didn’t like him.”

“I _despised_ him.”

“I never knew my father,” she looked up at him, eyes wide suddenly.  “But _you_ did. Who was he? Who was my father, Vowrawn?”

“His name was Darth Taxon,” he growled through clenched teeth.

“He was on the Dark Council, wasn’t he? Why did you hate him?”

“Many reasons m’dear. He plied your mother with expensive trinkets, took her places—foolish child believed he loved her. Pregnant by him just months before her seventeenth birthday, he abandoned her—left her on her adoptive parents’ doorstep.”

“They told me she became sick after I was born and died. Is that true?”

Vowrawn hung his head. “She believed she could redeem herself—be thought of as valuable among the Sith if she married and bore the child of a powerful Sith Lord.  She hoped it would be Taxon—poor thing never recovered from his rejection.  She gave birth to you and killed herself a year later. I blame myself.”

“Tell me you killed him.”

“Taxon was powerful…strong, skilled in combat like you are.  I couldn’t beat him myself, but I found one that could.”

“Who?”

“Marr.  He killed him and took his seat on the Council.”

“Did he know about me?”

“I could never tell my dearest and most trusted friend the truth…but he had his own reasons to want Taxon dead.”

“Were you afraid of what he’d do to me if he learned the truth?”

“It crossed my mind at first, but Marr would never have harmed a child simply for having the misfortune of being fathered by such a blaggard. I meant to tell him, no time seemed right.  Though I suppose it’s irrelevant now…all becomes known after death.”

Fernal was quiet for a long time. “I was fortunate growing up, my grandparents were kind to me, but the advantages I received—they weren’t capable of them…was that you?”

“After I’d learned what happened—I did all I could to make amends—from a distance. Not because I didn’t want to know you, but because I didn’t believe I deserved to.”

“So you got me into the Academy, you got Overseer Tremel to help me…you arranged all of it?”

Vowrawn nodded.  “I started you on your path—the rest you achieved on your own.  Suffice it to say, I was a little shocked to see you on Corellia that day when we first officially met. You were the one secret Baras’s spies never ferreted out.”

“I wish I’d known then. I told Nox something similar when she came to me.”

“Would you have done anything differently?”

“No. Does she know you want to die? And don’t deny it, I can sense it.”

“She and I have discussed it.  I invited her to join me…she agreed to think it over, just as I agreed to consider living.”

“Do you think she’ll agree?”

Vowrawn chuckled. “If I know my Nox, she will pull out all the stops to get her way.”

“I don’t want you to die either, for whatever it’s worth. Now that I know the truth…there are so many questions. We need more time.”

“And you shall have it,” he said setting his hand over hers. 

“So how long do I have to stay cooped up in here?”

He glanced up at the scans and shrugged.  “The kolto has taken effect. Everything reads normally—so not a moment longer than you wish to, m’dear.”

“Some shut-eye in a proper bunk is in order, I think.”  She hopped off the medbay bed and smiled.  “We’ll talk again later? We need to decide what to do about Jadus.”

“Of course.” He kissed her cheek and watched her leave. “At least _now_ you know the truth,” he whispered under his breath.

 

((to be continued…))


	44. Chapter 44

 

  

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Forty-Four**

 

 

A clash of neon oranges, pinks and reds lashed out from the darkness on one of the middling concourses on Nar Shaddaa.  A forty foot high holo-projection of a buxom blue Twi’lek dancer sprouted up from the wet pavement over Ilia and Vector as they navigated the promenade.  The giant dancer gyrated and flounced in a lekku whipping dervish.

Vector looked up between the projection’s parted legs and quickly averted his gaze. 

“Why Vector, are you blushing or is it the lighting?”

“We never imagined the holograms here were anatomically correct.”

Ilia smirked, but before she could respond a male Chagrian with sawed-off horns rammed into Vector hard enough to knock him off balance. “Excuse us, we did not see you there.”

The tall but portly alien ignored the apology and stepped back to take a long look at Vector. “Whas’ wrong wif their eyes?” He slurred. “N’rshadaah is no place fer yer kind.”

The stench of cheap alcohol, spice, and rotten food streamed from his mouth and Ilia stifled the wince forming on her face. “They’re blind. They can’t see you, friend. Here, why don’t you buy yourself a bottle of the good stuff with our compliments,” she said, pressing a hundred credit note into the Chagrian’s hand.

The alien pocketed the note and disappeared into an alley as Vector and Ilia wove their way into the crowd ahead.

“It appears to us, he was already quite intoxicated.”

“Not nearly enough, I’m afraid. I don’t think our encounter was an accident. I don’t like how he looked at you or _me_ for that matter. We need to hurry.”

“Agreed.”

Fifteen minutes later, they’d gained access to the private lift. The levels blinked by in screaming colour as they rose ever higher.

“Quite a view,” Ilia murmured. “Pity we’re working, we might’ve had some fun.”

“Ilia, look,” Vector said nodding to the promenade below. “The crowd is scattering.”

“And I see why,” she said. “Those are Imperial troopers. I knew our stubby-horned friend was trouble.”

“It _is_ unusual to see an Imperial presence of that size on Nar Shaddaa. Perhaps, they’re not here for us.”

“They could be looking for the Face Merchants for killing their moff, but I don’t intend to find out. After we get our data, we’re leaving.”

“Understood.”

On the way to the vault, they alternated between hiding in niches and jogging at a cautious pace when the corridors were clear.

“Here we are,” Ilia murmured. The gleaming section of bronzium plated wall appeared to be just that, a wall. She ran the pads of her fingers under the decorative moulding until she felt the switch.

At her touch, the wall groaned just enough to reveal a narrow doorway.  “I’ll try and make fast work of this.”

“We know you will. Be careful.”  Vector stood with his back to the door, his trusty electrostaff in hand.

The walls were lined floor to ceiling with smaller vaults of different sizes, each no doubt secreting some horrible weapon or invention.  “If only we had more time,” she said under her breath.

Several minutes later, she’d gained access to the vault’s logs.  She erased the most recent footage and set the cameras on a delay to give her time to leave unseen.  Her data spike’s light flickered as the information downloaded.

The vaults lured her attention and she bit down on her lower lip, her eyes sparkling with temptation.  “Maybe a quick peek at the inventory register wouldn’t hurt.”

She scanned the directories, eyes widening at entry Forn-Forn-Aurek-Forn-Isk-Xesh.  “This is interesting.”

Vector ducked into the vault. “We don’t mean to rush you…”

“Almost there,” she called over to him as she scanned the wall for the matching code.  “There you are,” she purred and keyed in the password.  She snatched the case inside and stowed it into her pack.  The data spike chirped.

“Good, download complete,” she whispered and snatched the device from the computer.

No sooner had she ducked out of the room, the door sealed behind her.  “I have what we need. Let’s go.”

“The electrons are discordant. Something is wrong here. We should leave this place—and not the way we came.”

 “I know a shortcut to Mezenti. This way,” Ilia pocketed the spike and clasped Vector’s hand.

The route to the spaceport was blessedly free of traffic and pedestrians and Ilia slapped the button that would grant them access to the private hanger they’d rented.

The door behind them whooshed shut just as the one ahead opened.

Vector lifted his chin, his fingers tightening around Ilia’s hand. She stared ahead blankly at the horde of Imperial troopers with their weapons at the ready.

“Hands where we can see them,” the leader barked at Ilia and Vector. “Take their weapons,” he added to his men.

A pair of troopers moved in to seize Ilia’s pistol, her pack, and Vector’s electrostaff. 

“Obviously, you don’t know who I am, Captain,” Ilia began in a falsely cheery tone.

“Pipe down, scum. You’re in possession of stolen Imperial property and you are under arrest.”

“Perhaps you ought to contact your superiors.  As an Imperial Cipher I’m well within my rights to take possession of this device.”

“That’s enough out of you.”  The trooper aimed the butt of his rifle at Ilia’s face.  Vector shoved her aside and took the brunt of the hit.  Blood gushed from his nose.

“Vector,” Ilia gasped.

“We’re all right agent,” he managed and forced himself to stand straighter.

“Cuff ‘em.” The trooper grunted.

A blur of blue skin and stubby horns appeared behind the Imperials and Ilia’s eyes widened.

The sound of metal clinked and bounced along the durasteel plate floor.  Ilia tugged Vector close and pressed him against the wall to shield him.

The metal sphere blew apart and small chunks of debris peppered Ilia’s back. The sound of groaning crumpling bodies followed.  The sickeningly sweet odor of poison gas reached her next. Ilia coughed. Her vision swam and she felt her hold on Vector slip away. 

“Catch!” The drunken Chagrian called out, his voice metallic from his breathing apparatus.  He hurled a pair of rebreathers at them. “C’mon, c’mon,” the alien snarled, motioning to them with a meaty palm to follow.

Vector collected Ilia’s pack and their weapons. They pressed the devices to their faces and tugged the rubbery straps over their heads to escape the dusty, poison-filled corridor.  The door leading to the private hanger squeezed shut behind them.

Ilia and Vector emerged arm in arm, gasping under their masks as they pulled them off.

“They won’t be unkun-shus fer long,” the Chagrian said in his peculiar accent. A black forked tongue flicked over his lips.

“Who are you?” Ilia hissed through her mask.

“Friend of a friend,” a familiar male voice announced from behind a skid of supplies before its owner emerged.

“Theron Shan? I don’t believe it,” Ilia gasped and gestured to the Chagrian. “You two are _friends_?”

“Yeah, Gav and I—we go way back.” Theron turned to the alien. “You gonna be okay?”

The Chagrian nodded and snapped the credit note Ilia had bribed him with earlier.  “Be jus’ fine, after a bottle of the good stuff.  Sorry ‘bout the auction, Shan. Wish I coulda told yeh more.”

“Between you and the banking clan, it’s enough to go on. Take care out there.”

The Chagrian saluted and ambled away through the service hatch.

“I need a favour,” Theron said.

Ilia dabbed at Vector’s face.  “Name it.”

“Can I hitch a ride?”

“Of course, Theron.  I’ll be quite relieved to get as far away from here as possible.”

“You and me both,” Theron said, digging through his pocket.  “Here, got some kolto.”

“Thank you, Theron,” Vector said softly.

 

*

 

The electrical impulse quickened the droid.  One eye lit up, then the other. Its sensors registered the surrounding darkness and its night vision came online.  One by one its fingers flexed and stood straighter. Its limbs creaked as it edged toward the barrier ahead.  One powerful push against the door and light flooded the compartment. 

The droid claimed its blaster rifle from the weapon rack and ventured out of the storage room.

The Odessen base was abuzz with troops and rescue workers racing the halls, bringing the injured inside and searching for those still lost.

Astromech droids rolled by, but none paid the assassin droid any attention.  Like a fish crowding through a river during mating season, the droid broke free of the pack outside. 

After scanning what little remained of the cargo deck and landing platform, the droid climbed down a twist of girders and beams to the gorge below. 

Debris lay strewn amid the tall grasses and brush, but the droid continued onward, following its electronic summons.

A heavy-lifter droid, typically the sort used to load and unload supply shipments rooted through the debris, lifting durasteel panels and searching for survivors underneath.  The droid flashed the beam of light emanating from the ‘eye’ in the middle of its forehead to scout the wreckage ahead. A human arm stuck out from under a panel less than three meters away, the fingers slowly wriggling.

The assassin droid crept up to the heavy-lifter and extended its metallic hand.  A tool-arm emerged from the wrist to connect with the lifter’s power source.  Sparks shot out of the lifter’s rear panel and its head lolled forward.  It’s ‘eye’ winked out and the assassin droid withdrew its tool arm.

It crept toward the human arm and scanned the biological trapped underneath.  The droid stooped to carefully remove the duraplate panel and tossed it aside to expose the survivor.

“LQ-D8 at your service, Master.”

“Splendid. You’re here, and your new subroutines took.” Darmas groaned and shut off the remote beacon emanating from his com unit. Soot darkened his face and oily residue caked his hair and clothes.  A splotch of dried blood formed a target on his chest. “Help me up, would you?”

“Are your limbs functional? Scans indicate you’ve sustained a life-threatening injury. Are you leaking sanguinary liquids?”

“I—I don’t think so.”

With help, Darmas stood and lightly patted his chest. The pain he’d expected to feel was absent and he grinned.  His teeth looked unnaturally white against his soot-covered face.

“Where’s your ship, LQ-D8? I know you got here somehow.”

“My former Master’s ship is located in quadrant eighteen-besh.”

“Take me to it.  After we clear Odessen, I want you to send an encrypted message to Darth Jadus.  Tell him, the device worked. The Alliance Commander is compromised and Odessen is as good as his.”

“Of course, Master. Understood.”

*

 

The _Phantom_ broke free of Nar Shaddaa’s orbit and dashed out of Hutt space.  “Engage auto-pilot,” Ilia commanded.

The controls blinked as the ship’s AI took over.  She left the cockpit and found Vector and Theron chatting over the dejarik table, cafs in hand.

“Vector, are you all right? That looks angry,” she said nodding at his nose and the corona of dark bruises around it.

“We are well. Theron was good enough to tend our injury and the pain reducers have taken effect. Fortunately, nothing was broken.”

“That’s a relief,” Ilia said, helping herself to the caf.  “Now, Theron, where did you have it in mind to go?”

“Well, it seems like we’re all on the same page. Vector told me you’d planned on going to Rishi after your mission was finished.  If it’s all right with you, I’d like to tag along.”

“Of course. Perhaps we might even be able to help each other out.”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.  Vector briefed me about the Chrono—that it’s back in circulation—and that you suspect Jadus is behind the attacks on Coruscant and Dromund Kaas.”

“That’s right,” Ilia said, taking a sip of her caf.

Theron set his cup down. “Guess it comes as no surprise that Jadus trashed your homeworld.”

“None whatsoever. Any method justifies his designs,” Ilia said.  “Vector and I have gone through this with him before.”

“I heard something about that—something about some Eradicators.”

“My, you do get around, don’t you, Agent Shan,” Ilia quipped.

“Hey, it’s what we do, isn’t it?”

 “Now that you know a little about our mission, perhaps, we might help you with yours?”

Theron sighed.  “Remember when you told me about Lia’s younglings?”

“Yes,” Ilia said softly. “I remember. They were such sweet children. Your son—he resembled you. It still bothers me to this day what happened. I curse myself for ever trusting Scorpio.  I’m so sorry. This must be painful for you.”

“What if I told you they’re alive?”

“What?” Ilia gasped, suddenly wide-eyed. “But how? Where?”

“That’s what I’m trying to piece together.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.  They were on Korriban, one of the Overseers took them in.  Near as I can figure Darth Nox has Sephna—but my son—was sold at a slave auction.”

“The reason you were on Nar Shaddaa then.”

“Yeah. Didn’t manage to learn much—only that the Emperor’s Wrath bought him. Not sure what she’d want with a seven-year-old boy though.”

“I met the Wrath once, several years ago. She’s a reasonable woman. I don’t see her being cruel to the boy.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve still got to find them.  For Lia’s sake as much as my own.”

“Of course, Theron.  I understand completely and Vector and I will do whatever we can to help.”

“Whatever you need from us, we’ll assist you,” Vector added.

“That—means a lot, you two—I mean that.”

Ilia refilled her cup and turned her focus to Vector. “Were you able to review the security recordings I pulled from the vault?”

“Yes, briefly,” Vector began, “but it was enough, we only needed to go back a few months. We ran a facial recognition scan.  A man named Darmas Pollaran was responsible for breaching the vault.  He’s been working with Jadus.  He’s the one who took the Chrono.”

“Pollaran!” Theron leapt to his feet.

“You know this man?” Vector asked.

“ _Know_ him? I could _kill_ him.  I’ve gotta warn the others.”

“Would you rather we take you to them?”

Theron shook his head. “No…it’s probably better you don’t.  I didn’t want to get her hopes up. They probably think I betrayed them. I’ll send a message to Jonas. He can warn them.”

((to be continued…))


	45. Chapter 45

     

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Forty-Five**

 

 

Lana’s gaze followed Quinn, Jonas, and Doc as they filed into the private meeting chamber adjacent to the war room.  Trading glances, they took their seats at the broad oval table, Lana and Quinn seated at opposite ends. 

“Tee-Three, broadcast white noise until we conclude our session,” Quinn commanded.

The droid chirped its agreement and obeyed.

“Good. You’re all here,” Lana began, her hands framing the data pad between them. “In light of what’s happened, I’ve been instructed to apprise you all of the coming changes.

“As you know, the Commander has been incapacitated by the device we believe to be the FFA Chrono.”

“What I’d like to know is how the hell he got his hands on it,” Jonas growled.

“For now, that remains a mystery. It goes without saying the Commander’s condition is classified and owing to her absence, some changes need to be made to the command structure.”

Doc frowned. “Where is she?”

“Her location remains undisclosed, for security reasons—until further notice.  Her survival depends on it.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Doc replied.

“There are those that would use her malady against her and against the Alliance,” Quinn said. “It’s vital no one knows where she is. Not even us.”

Lana waited until the room fell silent again. “If there are no further questions or comments, I’ll proceed in relaying her orders.”

Jonas glanced around the table.  “I think we’re good to go, begin playback.”

Liatrix’s image sprouted from Lana’s datapad. “Hello everyone,” she began. “Thank you for coming. I regret I’m unable to be there in person. As you know, circumstances demand that I govern remotely. Lord Scourge will be checking in with Lana and Quinn daily on a secure channel.

“In the interest of efficiency, I’m restructuring command into Spheres of Influence—Coordination, Military Strategy, Medicine, and Intelligence & Security, led by Lana, Quinn, Doc and Jonas respectively.  You will continue with your current responsibilities but also coordinate with the Alliance Specialists as needed.  You will each delegate duties in your respective Spheres as you deem necessary.

“The Sphere of Law & Justice will be shared by the four of you. Together you will form a tribunal to decide matters of justice and mete out judgments as necessary. In the event of a stalemate, I will provide the deciding vote.

“Should other Spheres of Influence be required, you will work together to create these Spheres and submit suitable leadership candidates for my consideration.

“While I’m hoping the situation is temporary, I have no set timetable for my return.  Undoubtedly my absence will be questioned and when it is, the simplest answer is that I am on a classified mission for the benefit of the Alliance. Thank you all for your cooperation and dedication.”

Liatrix’s image flickered and vanished but her final words hung in the silence.

“Strange she never mentioned Shan,” Doc said.

Quinn stood and clasped his hands behind his back. “Why would she? He’s missing. Gone without so much as a word to anyone, not even the Commander.”

Lana fidgeted with the data pad, idly turning it this way and that. “I never wanted to be the bearer of this news, but it appears Theron has been working against us. He’s been in communication with the Republic, on more than one occasion. He shared our Iokath Intel with Malcolm—which would explain the Republic’s interference.”

Jonas shot out of his chair and jabbed an accusing finger in Lana’s direction. “How the hell can you say that? You know him as well or better than _I_ do. He wouldn’t _do_ that.”

“I don’t _want_ to say it, much less believe it, but until there is proof to indicate otherwise…”

“Show me the transmissions, I want to see for myself.”

“It’s all here, Jonas. You’re welcome to it,” she said after summoning the data.

After a sharp glance her way, he wedged into the workspace and glared at the monitor. His eyes narrowed and he shook his head slowly.  “This isn’t right—”

“Explain,” Lana urged.

“I was on duty when this transmission was made. He couldn’t have done it—he was on Iokath and this indicates it was done at his station.”

“Then who did?”

“Darmas. Who else?” Jonas rammed his hand through his hair and averted his gaze. “It had to be.”

“You don’t _know_?” Doc prodded. “You’re the spy.”

“If he did—security footage will corroborate.” Lana tapped at the neighboring station. “I have war room’s security footage from the corresponding time stamp.”

Quinn watched over her shoulder and frowned. “It’s been doctored to run in a loop—there—you can see the flaw in the footage.”

“The caf,” Jonas growled and slapped the console.  “Sonuvabish dosed my caf.”

“And you didn’t notice?” Lana asked, shaking her head.

Jonas frowned. “He’s my father. I never thought he’d stoop _that_ low. Lesson learned.”

“And to think you question _my_ competence.”

“Enough, both of you. This is not the time,” Quinn barked. “Given Pollaran’s crimes, I would say this exonerates Agent Shan. Though I am perplexed by his disappearance. Why would he leave?”

“There are no ships unaccounted for,” Lana said.

“Ships come and go…he probably smuggled himself off world…but why?” Jonas puzzled and then a look of dawning bloomed on his face.

“Perhaps if we search his quarters again—it’s possible we missed something with all that’s going on,” Lana offered.

“I’m on it,” Jonas grunted and stormed out of the chamber.

“Speaking of Pollaran, has anyone accounted for his body?” Quinn asked.

Lana shook her head.  “Not yet. We’ve been searching day and night.”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Doc muttered.

 

*

 

Scourge set the shuttle down on the precipice as close to the treeline as he could manage for cover.  He dropped the boarding ramp and glanced over at the diminutive black cloaked mound asleep on the co-pilot’s chair.

He clasped Liatrix’s shoulder, gently rousing her. “We’ve arrived.”

She looked up at him with heavy hooded eyes, still muddled from sleep.  “How long was I out?”

“Nearly twelve hours.”

The smell of ozone that came with an impending thunderstorm wafted into the ship, luring her to stand. She pushed up against the chair’s armrests and clasped Scourge’s pro-offered arm.  “I’d like to go outside.”

He felt the trifling burden of her dependence weigh on his arm as he guided her. “Whatever my Lord Emperor wishes.”

A curtain of starlight stole out from behind the inky clouds peppering the ocean below with dazzling sparkles. Lightning flickered behind the distant clouds and the leaves shivered with the building wind.

“It looks just the same as I remember it,” she beamed.

“It never occurred to me that you thought of Yavin’s moon as home.”

“This place is dearer to me than any other—it’s where I first spoke to my father—right here, on a night much like this one.”

“You do realize we can’t remain here indefinitely?”

“I suppose not.  I just—I _needed_ to see it again—to remember. It’s not as if I have a home anymore.”

“If you define home as a world or a city or a collection of bricks and mortar—but there are other definitions—and those are far more reliable than any structure. A building cannot offer devotion—or love.”

“Take me to the edge,” she whispered.

Scourge nodded, his grip on her tightening as they neared.  Below, the sky, the ocean, and craggy shoreline blended together in a seamless quilt of midnight blues and blacks.

“For the first time in my life, I don’t know what to do or where to go,” she said. “I feel adrift and I _hate_ it,” she added bitterly. “I’d rather die than be this way.”

“Enough—I won’t tolerate talk of your death,” he growled. “I _told_ you, we’ll weather this.”

“How? Most of the galaxy wants me dead. I can barely walk on my own, never mind defend myself. I can’t fight, I can’t win and there’s nowhere to go. It’s only a matter of time before they get their wish.”

“Only you would find limitations in a galaxy filled with stars. You lack imagination, my Lord Emperor.”

“It’s a luxury I don’t have time for.”

“For one so young, you’ve always been in a hurry—you’re impatient and perversely unyielding.”

“You’re starting to sound as judgemental as the Jedi.”

“No need to be cruel and insulting.”

Liatrix smirked, the small victory glinted in her eyes but didn’t linger. The cool night breeze flitted around them and she shivered.

“You’re cold,” he said, spreading his cloak to warm her. “Come, I’ll make a fire.”

Her agreement came in a silent nod and she didn’t resist when he settled her near the ship for shelter. He left her his cloak and worked quickly to set up camp.

After a meal of hot stew and quick-rise spore bread, they warmed themselves before the fire, both seemingly absorbed by the reflections gliding along the surface of the caf in their mugs.

“A long time ago,” Scourge began, breaking the silence between them, “there was a Zabrak Jedi named Acaadi. He fought alongside Revan against the Mandalorians as one of the Revanchists and after Revan turned to the Dark side, Acaadi joined him.  Together they invaded the Republic.”

Liatrix clasped her knees and watched as the firelight and shadow played over his features. “What happened to him—to Acaadi?”

“He went on to fight many battles and achieve great things—he was a renowned corruptor—though no one is certain of his ultimate fate. Secretive, charismatic, disruptive,” Scourge murmured with a smile. “You remind me of him.”

“I don’t remember reading about him at the Temple.”

“I’m not surprised that the Jedi chose to limit knowledge of him. He learned much from the Jedi and Sith both, but his greatest lessons were learned from his time among the Luca Sene.”

“Miralukan force users?”

“Correct. Unlike other Force-using cultures, they did not use it to dictate how one chose to live—but they did favour the light-side unfortunately.”

“It’s strange, isn’t it? That Acaadi was allowed to study with them?”

“They were known on occasion to accept gifted Force users from other worlds into their number and instruct them on Alpheridies, but it wasn’t a common occurrence.”

“It sounds like you know quite a bit about them.”

“Learning their ways offered an advantage and I learned all I could from Revan.”

Liatrix’s brow peaked curiously. “What advantage?”

“The Jedi and Sith don’t spend enough time impressing upon their younglings the importance of the sense powers of the Force.  They mention it seemingly in passing and after they’ve mastered sensing pain probes under a blast helmet, they move on.  The Luca Sene spend the majority of their time mastering sense powers.”

“Because they don’t see as we do.”

“Necessity breeds innovation,” Scourge said meaningfully. “Stand up, I wish to try something with you.”

She rose slowly and stood before him, arms out for balance.  He took hold of the sash around her waist and deftly untied the soft watery material.

“What are you doing?” She eyed him dubiously.

“This.”  He looped the sash over her head and blindfolded her.

She pressed her fingers to the sash as he adjusted it.  “You’re not going to sick pain probes at me are you?”

“Only if you’re lucky.”  He led her away from the fire to the clearing next to the ship and after releasing her, he took several backward strides to increase the distance between them.  “Come to me,” he commanded.  “You don’t need to see to find me.  Walk.”

“I don’t know about this.” She took a tentative step forward, her arms stretched before her.  Several more steps followed the first and she dropped her arms. As she neared he moved back further, inciting her to continue.

“Your eyes deceive you—they no longer work in concert with your mind’s perceptions.  Rely only on the Force to guide you.”

A vibrant scarlet aura defined him within the Force.  The details of his face and body and armour formed as she deepened her connection.  With each step, her gait grew more confident and when she reached him this time, he didn’t back away.

“I made it.  I found you,” she gushed, still blindfolded.

The hint of hope in her voice buoyed him and his gaze fixed longingly on her lips.  Every impulse and sinew in his body commanded him to taste her, but he resisted.  “Now, we return to camp,” he said quietly.  “It’s late—and given your progress, I wish to continue in the morning. We have much to discuss.”

“Tomorrow. Right now, I’d like to sit by the fire just a little longer,” she murmured, slipping the blindfold off.

“Very well—my Lord Emperor. A little longer.”

 

*

 

Jonas glared at the room like it was the enemy.  His gaze flitted from corner to corner and then back to the bed.  “If I was gonna hide something…where would I put it?” 

The durasteel footlocker at the end of the bed practically slapped him in the face and called him a nerf herder.

“I guess another once-over couldn’t hurt.”  He knelt next to the trunk and threw back the lid.  He examined the stack of Aratech magazines, finding the centerfold featuring the _Eclipse_ slightly wrinkled. Jonas shook his head. “You’re a lost cause.”

After chucking the speeder po.rn over his shoulder he rifled through the rest—packs of nuts and bolts, cartridges and a bottle of engine oil. A deck of sabacc cards, a leatheris pouch of assorted hydrospanners, ammo and a bottle of decent Kri’gee.  “You left it, you lose it. Property of the Alliance, now buddy,” he muttered and stuffed the liquor inside his jacket.

Matchbooks, dice, and a half-spent spice stick later, the empty trunk mocked Jonas. He sniffed at the spice and pitched it.  “Truly a lost cause.”

Something about the bottom inspired him to tap it with his knuckles. The hollow sound answering him made him frown _._

_Why didn’t I think of that before?_

Jonas prised open the base and plucked the data file and the letter folded around it from the corner. He scanned the letter and crushed it into a ball.  “Best interests my a.ss.”  The data file had been made recently, that much he could tell from the casing.  His attention drifted to Theron’s computer console and his memory flashed back to the night Theron dissected Scorpio’s memory core.

“Sonuvabish! You found something, didn’t you,” he grumbled and shot up to his feet.  His com chimed and he pocketed the data as he answered.

Theron’s image rose from the device. “Jonas, listen to me. You’ve gotta warn Lia. Darmas is working for Darth Jadus and he has the FFA Chrono and my gut says he means to use it on her.”

“You’re too late.”

“What?”

“He already did—at maximum. She’s lucky to be alive.”

“She’s okay?”

“He messed her up bad—she can’t walk without help, can’t fight. Scourge took her away to an undisclosed location—to keep her safe.  Where are you? Why’d you leave?”

The warning klaxon sounded and static took over the wavering transmission. A dim, flashing red light seeped in around the entrance.

“I can’t get into it—not yet—what’s happening? Are you—under—attack?” Theron asked between static hisses.

Jonas swore.  “I dunno. Where the hell are you? Gotta talk to you about the data file.”

“I’m on Reesh—shee—Jonas? You there? Dammit!” Theron’s image cut out leaving only a rush of static behind.

“You’re breaking up, you’re on Rishi? Hey!”  Jonas growled and bashed his fist against the com. “Aw c’mon!”

The rush of personnel storming the corridors grew louder and louder as the traffic increased.  He dove into the fray and fought against the current of soldiers and staff but couldn’t reach the corridor that led to the war room.

He surrendered to the flow and emerged outside.  A mammoth triangular shaped shadow moved over the evergreen-lined valley and Jonas looked up.

The Imperial star destroyer—a dark behemoth unlike any he’d ever seen before coasted over Odessen toward the base. Swarms of fighters streamed from its underbelly spewing salvos of green laser fire at the base.  Black smoke and flame rose up from the communications arrays.  The trees burned and the Alliance ion canons came online adding to the confusion.

The first line of Alliance fighters erupted in a boiling cloud of flame and the faint howls of dying men reached him.

The second and third lines took to the air and dove into the tangle of Imperial fighters.

“We’re not gonna last. We gotta get outta here…” Jonas breathed and fought his way back into the base.

 

((to be continued…))

   


	46. Chapter 46

 

 

 

  

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Forty-Six**

 

Quinn scrolled through the casualty list and the battle display flashing before him. One by one, Alliance ships exploded into fiery masses and vanished from the viewscreen like defeated dejarik pieces. The ground forces fared no better. Entire companies of men met their doom along fractured fields while others were crushed under the crumbling bluffs.  Odessen burned, the once green planet blackened by smoke and ash.

The star destroyer, _Invidia_ remained fixed over the valley, just beyond the reach of the ion cannons.

Dust sifted from the rafters above the war room with every explosion and the computer monitors rocked back and forth on their pedestals.  Flares of green light flashed across Lana’s pale features, vibrations rising through the soles of her boots from the quaking ground.  “We can’t hold out much longer, General.”

“I have something in mind,” Quinn began, “but we need more time.”

Jonas charged into the war room, his blaster drawn.  “They’ve breached our final perimeter. Won’t be long before they’re inside.”

“We have no choice. Evacuate the remaining ground staff,” Quinn announced.

Feverishly, Lana tapped at her controls.  “Evacuation codes sent. It’s done.”

Jonas rushed to Lana’s side.  “We need to get to my ship.”

“Quinn has a plan—we need to hold them off a little longer.”

“How long do you need?” Jonas barked.

“Longer than we have. Go.  I’ll remain here,” Quinn said.

“You can’t!” Lana protested.

“I must. If I don’t, no one will escape. Jadus will chase the remnants of the Alliance to the ends of the galaxy. Now go!”

Jonas frowned.  “You’re sure there’s no other way? What about a droid? Can’t a droid do it?”

“A droid would be insufficient. As much as I wish there were another alternative, there isn’t.  You must hurry!”

“Thank you for your sacrifice, General,” Lana murmured.

“It’s my duty,” Quinn said, resigned.

“C’mon,” Jonas snatched her arm and dragged her along behind him. She threw a glance at Quinn over her shoulder and winced when he disappeared from view. 

The evacuating ground forces and staff cut along their sides as they navigated the base toward the hanger.

The double doors leading to the ships remained open, but only just enough for them to squeeze through with some effort.

“Made it,” Jonas panted and started for his ship.  Massive chunks of stone tumbled from the ceiling on the far side. Doc, Kira, and their son emerged from the entrance on the opposite side.

“That ceiling isn’t going to hold,” Lana breathed.  “They’ll be killed.”

“Stay here,” Jonas ordered. “If we’re about to be crushed, use your Force mumbo-jumbo.”

Lana held her breath as she watched him zig-zag across the cavernous hanger, just barely dodging falling stone.

“C’mon! This whole place is gonna cave in!”  Jonas shouted, rushing them along.  “We’ll take my ship.”

Doc didn’t argue and scooped his son up into his arms.  Kiran whimpered and buried his face against his father’s neck and held on so tightly Doc gasped. “Ease up, buddy. Daddy’s gotta breathe.”

Kira followed, her eyes drawn to the ceiling.  Light seeped in, casting dusty beams over the hanger.  A chunk of rock plummeted, its trajectory squarely over Doc’s path.  Kira reached out with the Force and sent the stone sailing across the chamber.

“Close one!” Doc shouted and grabbed her hand.

Jonas hurried them up the boarding ramp and Lana fell in behind them.  No sooner were they aboard the ship, the ceiling shuddered and rained debris.  The interior of Jonas’s ship echoed and rocked from the thunderous impacts against the hull.

Jonas threw himself into the pilot’s seat.  Seconds passed like years before the vessel screamed out of the crumbling base.

 

Quinn aimed the ion cannons to cover the fleeing ships—five in all, including Balkar’s.  A thunderous blast shook what remained of the base.  Five ships became four before the power generators quit in a fit of fiery sparks.  The base blacked out and the wheezy blasts of the ion cannons fell eerily quiet.  The silence hung in the air all too briefly before the explosions outside rocked the base again.

Cautiously, Quinn navigated the war room until he found the supply locker. He cracked a glowrod and tucked a spare into his belt.  A bubble of dim green light surrounded him as he made his way to the armory.

A dozen bright white lights danced in the hall, light skimming off the walls and floor, several meters ahead. The clatter of boots against stone reached him next as they neared.  Jadus’s forces had breached the base just as Jonas had forecast.

Quinn doused his light and wedged himself between the service corridor walls.  Gritting his teeth, he scaled the rough-hewn walls, pushing up first with his shoulders and hands, and then his feet. 

Bit by bit he shimmied up between the walls until he could secret himself atop the pipeline that ran the length of the base. The metal vibrated under his weight.  The pipe pressing against his left arm began to heat as steam pushed through it.  The clamps connecting the lines hissed and spit scalding liquid. Quinn winced.

The heat grew against his arm and as much as he wanted to move or cry out, surviving— _succeeding_ —meant keeping still and silent until the invading squadron passed.  The spare glowrod teetered from his belt, threatening to fall.  The troopers were almost under him. He held his breath, lips clenched tight as the seemingly endless procession of men marched below.

 

*

 

Jonas and the others sat in cowed silence, the flames of the exploding ship still burning bright in their mind’s eye.  Only seconds separated them from the other ship and only luck meant that they survived when the others died.

“I never thought it would end this way,” Lana murmured, her features pasty after the near miss.  “So much loss.”

“It’s not over yet,” Jonas grunted. “Jadus is _not_ gonna get away with this. I promise you that.”

Kira and Doc cradled their son between them. Kiran wept, his lower lip trembling and Kira drew him against her shoulder, her fingers roughing through his hair.  “What now?” She asked.

“Good question,” Lana said.

“Rishi.  We’re going to Rishi,” Jonas announced. 

Lana shook her head. “Why?”

“Because Theron is there.”

“You spoke to him? When?”

“While I was searching his quarters.  He called to warn us—to warn Lia—what Darmas meant to do with the Chrono.  Our signal cut out when the attack started.”

“That means he’s still on our side,” Lana whispered.

Jonas punched in a course for the Outer Rim. “Of course he is.  How you could even _question_ that is beyond me—after all we’ve been through? Besides, it’s not like we have anywhere else to go.”

 

*

 

 

Minutes after the squadron passed, Quinn rolled away from the blazing pipe and the spare glowrod crashed to the floor with a clatter.  Despite the protective layer of his uniform, the outer portion of his left arm stung and as he shimmied down the walls, he felt the ooze of broken blisters.

After activating the spare rod, he crept onward, hugging the walls until he arrived at the armory.  He rummaged until he found a remote probe droid and a bundle of high yield explosives.  Working in haste, he packed the droid full and reaffixed the dome on its spindly-legged body.

Outside, he choked on the thick black smoke and crouched low as he made his way to the one platform that hadn’t been entirely blown away.  His attention fixed on the destroyer first, but the yield was too small to inflict much damage on a vessel that size.  The swarm of fighters caught his attention next and he deployed the droid, urging it ever upward with his remote.  Careful not to draw their fire he positioned it at the heart of the formation and detonated. 

The fighters spiraled out of control, colliding with the _Invidia_ , while others exploded into the cliffside.

Quinn’s lip twitched up at his small triumph.  Destroying a handful of Imperial fighters was equal to swatting a gnat in terms of Jadus’s might, but it was a victory none-the-less, and a victory against the Empire was one he never thought he might celebrate until now.

The flames grew and spread to engulf much of the base.  Quinn nodded in resignation as he descended the platform to escape into the woods by the river.

Bombs rained from the destroyer and one massive hit connected with the saucer-shaped roof of the base.  The force of the explosion knocked Quinn off balance and propelled him into a thicket, just missing a jagged outcropping of stone.  Despite the soft forest loam, he landed hard and pain lanced through his midsection.  Slowly, painfully, he managed to turn himself over and drizzled the contents of a kolto pack into his mouth.  He dropped his arm and stared up at the sky through the singed treetops. 

The _Invidia,_ seemingly satisfied with the destruction it had imposed on Odessen, ascended and gradually grew smaller until it disappeared, taking the remnants of its accompanying force with it. 

 _At last,_ Quinn thought, _they’re finally gone;_ but before he could reproach himself for the Alliance’s losses, his breathing hitched and he lost consciousness.  

 

*

 

Jadus paced the bridge of the _Invidia._  The fire on Odessen’s surface could be seen from space—as a flaming speck amid blues and greens.

The com unit chimed and Lieutenant Illes cleared his throat.  “Lord Jadus, there is an incoming communication from your Hand, Agent Pollaran.”

“Put it through, Lieutenant.”

Illes accepted the transmission.  Darmas’s image bloomed over the console.  “Lord Jadus.”  He followed up his greeting with a slight bow.  “I regret I was unable to contact you personally before, but I wanted to follow up. I trust everything went according to plan?”

“I was told the Alliance Commander is missing.”

“Perhaps she’s among the casualties,” Darmas offered.

“She’s no longer on Odessen.”

“You have the boy, use _him_ to lure her—my lord it appears we’re under attack.  You’re breaking up…my lord? Lord Jadus?”  Darmas’s voice crackled until it was pure static.

“Re-establish the connection, Lieutenant.”

Illes blanched.  “I can’t, my lord.  The signal is lost—it appears the agent’s craft has been destroyed.  There’s no trace.”

“Continue scanning and send the results to my chambers.”  Jadus left the bridge, the cold palpable in his wake.

“Y-yes, my lord,” Illes stammered.

 

*

 

Darmas ran his hand over the stubble peppering his jawline.  “LQ-D8, kindly set a course for Belsavis, now that we’ve made our last exit.”

“Setting course,” the droid announced and then hesitated. “Master, I fail to see the logic behind your ruse. You are the Darth’s most trusted servant. Why falsify your demise?”

“First of all, I am no one’s servant, least of all to some psychotic Sith,” Darmas spat, his tone thick with contempt. “Secondly, if Jadus believes I’m dead, he won’t come looking for me.  All I need to do now, is put up my feet up, have you make some hot buttered bang-corn and sit back and watch the galaxy tear itself apart—shouldn’t be too hard, now that we’ve set all of those Force using lunatics against one another.”

“Ah—I see. You wish to eliminate the Force users—to liberate the galaxy from their psychic tyranny, just as my former Master did.”

“That’s right.  The game is still the same, just the players have changed and to the winner go the spoils.”

“Master, you have revealed yourself to be the superior competitor.  I exist to serve you, but I have one question.”

“What’s that?”

“Where do I find bang-corn and a device to transform it into puffed starch?”

“Not to worry my friend, we’ll have everything we need on Belsavis. Then we’ll sit back and enjoy the show.”

“Yes, Master.”

 

((to be continued…))


	47. Chapter 47

 

   

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Forty-Seven**

 

 

Andronikos hunched over the table, datapad in one hand, drink in the other. No matter how far away he held the device, the numbers were still fuzzy and only grew worse with each drink.  Low on rations, low on fuel, low on ammunition and getting low on liquor.  Even worse, they were low on friends with anything to spare.  Not even his old girl Casey Rix or the Exchange could help.  

Pirating might’ve been an option if there wasn’t a child on board—and one that looked up to him no less.

A giggle drew his attention toward the Captain’s quarters— _his quarters_ —at least they _had_ been until they were commandeered by the Sith.

He recognized the giggle and what it meant. He’d heard it almost every night for two weeks straight.  The room fell quiet and to his surprise Nox slipped out, wearing a pointless gauzy swathe across her body and nothing else.  His gaze lingered on the view and skimmed the taut, gently curved body underneath, the resulting side effect forcing him to shift in his seat.

“You’re still conscious,” Nox drawled. 

“Who the hell can sleep with that racket?”

She sauntered over, slipping in next to him in the booth. “Do you have a problem?”

“Hmph. I got problems for every man, woman, and child on this ship. Take your pick,” he said, offering her the datapad.

She took it and frowned.  “What’s all this?”

“What’s it look like?” He snarled and swirled the contents of his glass.

“It looks like all work and no play makes Andronikos a cranky pirate,” she teased, drawing shapes on his leg with her fingernail.

“You’ve been riding the old man pretty hard lately.”

“Oh, is _that_ it?” She crooned, her nail tracing ever closer to his crotch. “All you have to do is ask nicely.”

“You’re insatiable,” he muttered and downed the last of his drink.

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“A challenge?”

“Yes, for my pirate to satisfy me,” Nox purred and in one fluid motion, she settled over his lap to face him.

“Not in the mood, Sith.”

She cupped the bulge in his trousers, caressing him through the material.  “Oh really? Your first mate says differently.”

Deftly she worked her hand into his trousers and freed him.  He shuddered as soft, warm, fingers curled around his length, gliding up and down like an elevator. Her breasts confronted him almost at eye level, the dark pruney nipples jutting through the veil of material shadowing them.

The muscles lining his lower abdomen flexed with yearning.  “Yeah, he’s a lying pr.ick.”

“Well, if the Captain can no longer perform his duties, the first mate takes over,” Nox said coyly.

“Hmph. I can perform jus’ fine, Sith.” He tore the sheer fabric away to expose her and after a moment of indulgent admiration, his mouth closed over one nipple and then the other, sucking each one into a hardened pit.

Her fingers found his hair and his found her cleft. Parting her with a practiced touch, he coaxed the building heat from her until she was slick and sticky and her breathing shallow. 

He teased her until her inner muscles were swollen. Her thighs shook and her core throbbed and the moment her arousal threatened to bubble over, he withdrew.

She dug into his shoulder hard enough to leave U-shaped welts. “Don’t stop now you lunk-headed pirate,” she hissed, her voice breathy and shallow.

“Shut your mouth, Sith.”  He centered his tip against her threshold and pierced her in one long easy stroke.

“What did you say to me?” She asked with mock indignation.

“You just won’t stop talkin’ will ya,” he growled and pulled her face closer to his.  He kissed her hard and grasped her hip to guide her rhythm.  Her inner muscles clamped him hard as she swiveled over him.

“Oh Andronikos,” she mewled.

“Hmph.” He had her where he wanted her and pulled back just enough to watch her face. Her expression held an erotic twist—eyes closed, lips pursed, head tilted back as she rode him. There was almost a degree of desperation to the act. Her breasts quivered and she took him faster.  His hands slid up the elegant ribcage to hold her fast.  A hard tweak of her nipples earned her attention.

“This ain’ workin’ for me,” he muttered, his voice like oiled gravel. “I’m sick of being used.”

She looked as if she’d cry when he lifted her off his lap, again before she peaked. He spun her around to bend her over the table.  “I’m the user now. Stay down. Try to wiggle free and I’ll kill you,” he warned and pressed her head to the cool surface of the table, his hand splayed over her skull. 

Nox smirked. “As if you could.”

“I can end it right now. You want me to stop? I can walk away,” he panted.

“Not with your pants around your ankles.”

“That’s it. Now you’re gonna get it, Sith.”

He ran his left hand over the swell of her as.s and with the smallest effort, he claimed her again.  She gripped the edge of the table as he drove into her, each thrust more savage than the last. Her eyes closed as all of her awareness settled on their violent, driving connection.

“Is that all you can do?” She taunted.

“Hmph. When I’m done you, Sith, you won’t walk right for a week.”

“Make it a month.”

“Fine by me,” he bit out, pummeling her until she whimpered.

The dejarik table woke and the blue holo image of a rancor ran up against Nox’s hip and vanished into it.  Her body convulsed. She moaned, her insides clamping hard around his shaft to drive him over the edge. The rancor reappeared and roared across the board to devour the holographic Ortolan at the edge. The small blue alien squealed as the monster wagged the tiny elephantine body in its mouth before swallowing it whole with a teeth scraping chomp.

Andronikos gasped and threw his head back, shuddering as he filled her. Every thrust that followed grew slicker until he was spent. He collapsed into the booth’s bench seat and pulled her along with him to land in his lap. 

He bowed his forehead to rest against her shoulder and his hands held up her breasts, thumbs lazily skimming the puckered nipples.

Still inside her, he felt the diminishing waves of their fervor. She slipped off his lap and refilled his glass.  Perching on the edge of the table, knees apart, she took a sip of the Corellian whiskey and then offered the glass to him.

Her lips edged up at the corners like a marionette suddenly brought to life by its master.

“I _know_ that look,” Andronikos muttered and sipped his drink. “You’re up to something and don’t deny it.”

“I’m _always_ up to something, you know that.”

“Stop messin’ around,” he growled, shaking an accusing finger at her. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“I told you about the discussion Vowrawn and I had…”

“Yeah, the death pact.  You’re not planning on going through with it, are you?”

“Of course not, and I have the perfect plan to keep him among the living.”

“And what’s that?” Andronikos asked and took another drink.

“I’ve decided to have a baby.”

Andronikos spewed his whiskey hard enough to spray her thighs and the dark triangle between them.  “You what?”

“You heard me. You all seem to like children so damn much.”

His eyes narrowed.  “Is that what all this was about?”

“I need to get the job done. One way or another and it’s fun, don’t you agree?” She smirked and took back the glass to take a drink.

“And what makes you think he’ll be happy about it? Especially if it turns out that _I_ did the job.”

She set the drink down and rewrapped herself in the gossamer robe.  “It won’t matter,” she said backing away from the table slowly.  “He needs a reason to live and I’m giving him one.”

“You’re too damn manipulative for your own good. It’s going to backfire one of these days, mark my words.”

“I _want_ him to live and I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to make him see that life is worth living and I’ll tell you this much, _I_ don’t plan on dying.  _Ever_.”

“And you want to force him to stay with you,” Andronikos shook his head.

“You look upset.”

“’Course I’m upset!” He growled, fastening his trousers. “You wanna force a man to live against his will when you’ve got one right in front of you who’s willing to be with you ‘til the galaxy burns out.”

“Andronikos,” she whispered, grey eyes suddenly wide and innocent.

He snatched up his datapad. “I gotta figure this out. We’re short on everything around here.”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“Yeah, I am. And don’t look at me like that unless you mean it.”

“I _do_ mean it.”

He glared at her, eyes as hard as flint. “I’m done with your games. Tatooine didn’t work out and we gotta think of something else. If you’ve got credits squirreled away, now would be a good time to let the moths outta your wallet. Unless you got any other bright ideas?”

Nox paced. “I won’t lie…”

“ _That’s_ a first.”

“We’re low on resources. Maybe we could be pirates?”

Andronikos frowned. “Not with the kid aboard. It’s dangerous—she could get killed or caught—and odds are she’d be sold to a Hutt if that happened. I won’t allow that, not on my watch.”

“If she was, maybe she’d find her brother.”

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“She’s nothing but a damn nuisance,” Nox hissed.

“And here you are looking to have one of your own,” he snorted. “If I were you, I’d rethink your reasons.”

Nox shook her head. “When did you turn into such a buzzkill?”

“You _know_ when.”

“I need a shower,” she mumbled and tottered painfully to the fresher down the corridor. She moved slowly, carefully, as if to avoid giving him satisfaction for what he’d done to her.

Andronikos smirked at his handiwork and considered taking her again in the shower whether she liked it or not before thinking better of it. “Damn Sith.”

He drained the bottle and when he was certain he wouldn’t fall over, he staggered to his bunk in the cargo bay and passed out.

 

Only the hiss of the refresher broke the silence aboard the _Sky Princess II._  The door leading to the Captain’s quarters edged open the rest of the way.  Vowrawn peered out into the dim light and padded over to the booth.  He picked up the empty bottle and after a moment’s admiration, he set it down again. 

The sound of the fresher drew his attention, but before he could decide whether to go to it or return to bed, Fernal appeared at his elbow and he turned to face her.

“What’s the matter m’dear? Don’t tell me sleep is eluding you as well? It’s not your little bunkmate is it?” He asked.

Fernal shook her head.  “No, the child is fine, still asleep with her toy.  I had a vision and I can’t shake it. It’s upsetting and I hate feeling powerless.”

“What did you see?” 

“I saw a world—one with evergreen forests as far as the eye could see, lakes, great stone cliffs, rivers—a rustic world of extraordinary beauty.”

“That doesn’t sound so terrible m’dear.”

“Except that in the forest, I _saw_ Quinn. He was hurt and in great pain. Behind him, the world burns, before him, aggressive animals wait with hungry eyes.”

“Your husband—the clever Imperial officer with you when we first met on Corellia and again on Rishi?”

“The very same.”

“You never said—why isn’t he with you now?”

Fernal bowed her head.  “Being with me would put him in danger. The Hand, the Emperor, they’d never be satisfied. No matter what I did, it would never be enough for them and if I refused, they’d use his well-being against me. He’s nothing but a pawn to them. I wanted him to be safe and in order to achieve that, I _had_ to stay away after they rescued me.”

“My dear, we’re _all_ pawns to them, until we remove ourselves from their game, or better yet, take control of it.”

“I wish I knew how.”

“Well, it appears there’s nothing keeping you from reuniting with your young man now?”

“Except that I don’t recognize the world I saw.  He _needs_ me and I’m helpless to do anything about it.” Fernal’s hands curled into tight fists and unshed tears blurred her sight.

Vowrawn clasped her arm. “M’dear. I firmly believe that all things happen for a reason…and it seems you’re in luck.”

“How?”

“Because I _know_ where your young man is. He’s on Odessen. Feravai spoke of it and the Alliance stationed there—led by none other than Marr’s daughter.”

“Can you take me there?”

“Of course.  I was about to suggest it,” he said, leading her to the cockpit. “It seems we have something of a supply shortage on our hands as well.  Perhaps we may find a means to solve that there.”

“Do we have enough fuel?”

Vowrawn eyed the gauges thoughtfully.  “Just enough, I think, but beyond that, no.”  He settled into the pilot’s seat and set a course for Odessen.  “Leaving will be dependent upon the Alliance’s generosity.”

Fernal settled into the co-pilot’s seat. “What about you? Why are you still awake?”

“Oh, just considering my next move,” he said, smiling cryptically.

“You’ve made your decision. Why not tell her?”

“It’s too much fun watching the lengths she’ll go to persuade me.”

 

((To be continued…))


	48. Chapter 48

   

 

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Forty-Eight**

 

The _Sky Princess II_ stuttered to a stop on the crumbling remains of the main landing pad outside the gutted base on Odessen.  The pall of black smoke over the base had dissipated into an anemic grey film but the smell of char and ruin was strong enough to seep into the ship.

Fernal stood, still clinging to the armrests of the co-pilot’s chair and stared at the destruction through the viewport.  “It’s been razed to the ground. Who could’ve done this?”

Vowrawn shook his head.  “If I were to guess, this is Jadus’s doing—Odessen is merely another link in his machinations against the Eternal Alliance—the only real threat against his rule.”

“Clearly you don’t believe Marr’s daughter was responsible for the attack on Coruscant and Dromund Kaas."

“Only Jadus would be depraved enough to bomb our own people,” Vowrawn said, dropping the boarding ramp. “And from what I’ve heard he wasn’t content to stop there.”

“He must be stopped.”

Andronikos burst into the cockpit.  “Great.  Just great,” he ranted and threw up his hands. “You realize you’ve stranded us here, right? And why the hell are we back here anyway?”

“That would be my doing, Captain,” Fernal said. “I had a vision. My husband is here—he’s fighting for his life—it’s not something I could ignore. Assuming we’re not already too late.”

“A’right,” Andronikos conceded. “One problem at a time. We’re here now—let’s find him—then see what we can salvage—maybe we can siphon some fuel off the wrecks. D’you know where to start looking?”

“No, but the Force will guide me,” Fernal said.

“We can manage on our own,” Vowrawn announced. “That will free you and the ladies to see to our supply shortage.”

Andronikos pulled a flare gun from the emergency supply kit. “Fine. Take this, in case you need a hand.” 

Fernal accepted the gun and tucked it under her belt.  “Thank you, Captain. Your understanding is appreciated.”

“Yeah, don’ mention it.”

 

Outside, Fernal gazed out over the mangled railing at the blackened treetops.  “No.  You’re not there,” she murmured to herself.

Vowrawn fell in at her side and held up the first aid kit he’d plucked from the ship on the way out. “I thought it would be wise to be prepared.”

Fernal nodded and meandered aimlessly across the damaged deck.  Vowrawn hesitated and glanced back at the ruins of the base. “Perhaps he’s inside?”

Her gaze remained distant but instead of being drawn to the burned-out saucer-shaped building, she drifted closer to the ramp leading into the forest.  The gurgling rush of the nearby stream was the only sound besides their boots striking the durasteel ramp as they descended.

Though she moved aimlessly through the brush, there was a hint of purpose guiding her direction.  Chunks of rubble littered the forest floor all around and she paused to examine the fan-shaped pattern.

“If I were to guess,” Vowrawn began, “the debris is from an explosion.”

“I agree.” She picked at the bent and broken vegetation, all of it aiming away from the base.  “We need to go deeper into the woods.”

Vowrawn cocked his head and reached out with the Force. “I sense several unusual life-forms ahead.”

Fernal drew her lightsaber. “So do I.  They move like a pack of ghosts—manifesting one moment and vanishing the next.  They’re unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.”

Without hesitation, she sprinted into the woods and Vowrawn followed at a more cautious gait. 

Her mind’s eye taunted her with images of Malavai’s half-devoured corpse. She caught glimpses of pearly maggots wallowing in the slime of his remains.  Deep purple boils and welts dotted what little hadn’t been devoured. The smell was almost real.

She imagined his suffering as the savage beasts ripped into his body. He was a capable fighter, but what could he do alone against a pack of such creatures? 

Memories of his hands cupping her face and his lips on hers as they lay twined together at night haunted her next. The warmth of his breath against her ear and the sound of his voice were treasures she feared forever lost.

The surge of emotions swelling in her chest brought heat to her eyes and provoked her to move faster.  Her lungs ached and a stitch gnawed at her side.  She ran and ran, green branches whipping her face and body until she exploded into a clearing and froze at the sight of Malavai unconscious on the ground before her. 

His uniform was blackened and torn and his hair disheveled.  A dribble of Kolto leaked from the corner of his mouth and dried blood stained his hairline.  He laid on his back, arms and legs outstretched and his head cocked to one side. A massive stone lay only inches away and she shut her eyes.  He would’ve been killed for certain if he’d collided with it.

A shiver ran up her spine and for the first time in her life, she feared using the Force and the unbearable truth it might offer.  So much time wasted.  She should’ve killed the Emperor and all of his cronies instead of allowing them to press her into slavery. 

Her hands curled into fists at the thought of them and their twisted ritual and the boy she had willingly bought and sacrificed to them in the hopes of regaining her freedom.

Vowrawn gripped her shoulder.  “My dear, why do you hesitate? _Go_ to him. Be with him,” he urged gently.

Her lip trembled as she glanced back at him, a little girl again looking to her grandfather for strength.  “I’m afraid.”  Tears tumbled from her lashes and then Vowrawn’s words registered.  “He’s _not_ …dead?”

“No. He’s _hurt_ , but his heart is strong and alive and it beats for you.  Go,” he whispered, ushering her forward.

She threw herself next to him and caressed his cheek. His flesh was clammy but warm and at least a day’s shadow bristled against her palm.  Her tears pelted his uniform and to her shock, his eyes fluttered open, just as blue as she remembered them.

“Malavai,” she beamed and cupped his face.

A wash of confusion narrowed his eyes and he remained silent and still for what felt like a long time. Instinct demanded he appraise the situation fully before acting. His body still ached, but there was only one thing seeing her again could mean.

“My love…you’re _here_?  

“Yes. Together again, _Admiral_ ,” Fernal teased.

A dry chuckle escaped him and the stab in his chest made him cringe. “So, this is dying? I thought it would hurt more.”  His lips twitched into a smile. “I’ve _died_. I suppose it’s not so bad. I’m no longer _malcontent_ ,” he managed.

She kissed him and he responded, both reveling in their reunion until they were breathless. 

Fernal gazed at him meaningfully. “You’re _not_ dead and neither am I.”

Confusion flickered in his eyes again.  “I don’t understand—how can this be? You were killed—you’ve been gone nearly seven years. I searched for you—tirelessly.”

“I know,” she said sadly. “I have a lot of explaining to do. My absence wasn’t by choice. I just hope you can forgive me. I would spend the rest of my days making it up to you—if you’ll have me.”

“All that matters is that you’re here, my love.” A coughing fit broke his voice and he clutched his side.

Vowrawn pulled the mediscanner from the first aid kit and aimed it at Quinn.

“Who’s that?” Malavai hissed and winced as he tried to sit up and reach for his sidearm. “My lord?”

“I suppose re-introductions are in order, m’boy.  We first met on Corellia.  The pair of you saved me from Baras’s assassin and I am forever grateful and indebted to you both.  Lord Vowrawn…surely you remember?”

“Forgive me, my lord. I must’ve hit my head harder than I thought.”

Vowrawn shutdown the mediscanner. “Nothing to forgive. You have a concussion and three cracked ribs, however, neither are responsible for my—how shall I say it…rejuvination? I’m a new man,” he added, flinging out his arms.

“Quite,” Quinn mumbled.

“It’s a long story,” Fernal added.

“Wait, I recognize you—you’re Lord Abaron, from the Academy.”

Fernal smiled and patted Quinn’s hand. “Like I said, it’s a _long_ story. Vowrawn is also my grandfather.”

“He is?” Quinn blinked.

“That makes _you_ my grandson-in-law and while I enjoy reunions as much as anyone, you need medical attention, m’boy.”

“Guess we’ll need a little help then.”  Fernal drew the flare gun and shot off three rounds.

The surrounding bushes shuddered and a shadestalker alpha appeared first, followed by the rest of the slobbering pack a moment later.

“I wondered when they would show themselves,” Vowrawn muttered and flexed his fingers to send a barrage of lightning into the beasts.

The alpha fought the lightning and charged at Fernal.  In the time it would take to blink, she’d drawn her lightsaber and cleaved the animal in two.  Steam rose from the bisected animal’s innards while the rest of the pack flailed and died under the salvo of jagged electricity.

Vowrawn broke off the attack after the last of the shadestalkers perished.  Faltering, he reached out to steady himself and Fernal dashed to his side.

“Are you all right?”

He nodded and squeezed her forearm. “I’ll be fine in a minute. My new body has some quirks and limitations—its response to the Force is somewhat degraded.”

The growl of an approaching speeder lured their attention to the treeline.  Andronikos burst through the brush, towing a hover-stretcher.  He pulled up his goggles and sized up the trio.  “Hmph. Found what you were lookin’ for, huh?”

“He’s hurt. Thank you for coming so promptly, Captain,” Fernal said.

Andronikos glanced at the dead beasts. “Looks like you had a bit of trouble?”

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Vowrawn boasted and stood a bit taller.  “Shall we?”

After Quinn was settled into the stretcher, Fernal turned to Andronikos, “Have you had any luck with supplies, fuel?”

“Nah. We’re gonna be stuck here for a while.  We did find a droid—calls itself Tee-Seven—looks like he stayed behind to help the survivors escape.”  Andronikos tugged a datapad from his inside breast pocket. “A lot of good people died,” he said, offering her the device. “We managed to identify a few.  Droid’s working on repairing the database.”

Fernal examined it and shook her head. “So many dead.  Kaliyo Djannis, Aric Jorgan, Felix Iresso. I’ve only heard of these people by reputation.” She scrolled down the list and frowned. “Pierce…Broonmark…Vette,” her voice cracked. “These are people I knew well—they mattered to me. Vette…I _can’t_ believe she’s gone.”

“You have my condolences, Lord Fernal, for whatever it’s worth.”

“Thank you, Captain.  For _everything_.”  She straightened and masked her grief.  “The sooner we return to the ship, the sooner we can set up a camp and see to finding more supplies.”

 

*

 

Jadus watched the unconscious boy rotating inside the containment field before him in his quarters. Heavy stun cuffs looped around the boy’s wrists and ankles served as anchors.  He considered the settings on the device. If he increased power, it would cause irreversible brain damage and eventually stop the heart—but that would not serve him and that would only affect the physical.

Containing the galaxy’s most powerful being was a heady coup that corrupted even his icy sensibilities. The notion excited him at his core. Before him stood a chess piece—one with a mind of its own and mind-boggling powers far more terrible than anything he himself had cultivated—and yet here it stood, trapped in the frail body of a child until he decided how to deploy it to his advantage.

His powerfully built reflection glared back at him from the device with pale silver eyes, jet hair streaked with the same sterling hue and a complex jag of implants running both cheeks to his scarred temples. 

The malice of his victory sharpened his gaze and at the sight of it, he summoned his helmet and restored the elegant silver visage he was known for.  The helmet extinguished what little remained of his humanity and with it the arrogance that threatened to breed carelessness.

An incoming transmission pulled him away from the containment unit and his musings.  “Put it through, lieutenant.”

The image of a bearded human male in tattered clothes rose from the console and bowed. “My Lord.”

“I hope for your sake you’ve found my spy? Do not disappoint me.”

“My network located the black-eyed man and sure enough she’s with him—they’re on Rishi. We’re working on finding their hideout—but she goes to the market every day.”

“Take her into custody and await my next order.  She is not to be harmed, is that understood?”

“Yes, my lord.”

 

((to be continued…))


	49. Chapter 49

 

    

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Forty-Nine**

 

 

Tangled forks of lightning shot across Rishi’s night sky, thunder following in its wake. The storm with its lashing wind and rain wasn’t enough to wake Ilia but pulled her deeper into the darkness of her dreams.

The loose shutter clapping against the stronghold became a taxi door closing behind her. The rain followed but instead of a raging downpour, it was a soft rain, spawning ripples in the puddles she carefully avoided to save her suede stilettos.

Her gaze tracked up the towering twist of glass and durasteel in the heart of Kaas City’s elite district where her final exam was set to take place. A thick blanket of cloud swallowed the penthouse and the balcony that surrounded it.

Before she could quell the frenzied butterflies in her gut, she found herself on the top floor, only this time there was no elevator and no welcoming droid to meet her—only darkness and silence.

She wandered the penthouse, cautiously searching with splayed fingers until a swell of anxiety and dread took hold, rooting her where she stood. 

The darkness only served to elevate his presence. Her heart hammered and the tiny hairs on the nape of her neck lifted like a varactyl’s hackles. She could hear his breathing inside her mind, each breath cool and deliberate. Tendrils of his unseen power seized her and the pointed tips of her shoes scuffed along the floor as he drew her close.

His body pressed against hers, but rather than the warm taut flesh she expected, an icy, chiseled torso met her instead.  Goose pimples stippled her skin and her lungs crepitated as if a sudden frost had crystallized the delicate tree-like passages within.  She was drowning in his presence and panic became the air she breathed.

She swooned and her knees buckled. He broke her fall and she lay folded over his powerful forearm, a limp crescent weighing little more than a veil to him.

_‘Ilia. Allow your blood to simmer and your breathing to slow.’_

His voice wormed into her mind, each syllable a hypnotic beat compelling her to listen. She searched the darkness for him with drowsy amber-brown eyes. The subtle movement of shadow teased at the visage she’d always wondered about and silvery, inescapable eyes glowed like beacons calling her home.

The longer she held her gaze, the more defined his features became. Complex facial implants filled the valleys under aristocratic cheekbones. A firmly set square jaw and jet black hair emerged next, but the darkness refused to reveal any more.

 _‘Everything that is not of the dark side will be eradicated,’_ Jadus continued, slowly drawing her up to stand.

The words were as heady and potent as wine and every instinct demanded she fight the intoxicating timbre of his voice. The more she resisted, the further the frost progressed until it lined her throat.

“There won’t be anything left,” she countered.

_‘Allow your hate to wither every cell and fiber. Let your blood seethe and fill you with the dark side.’_

Ilia tugged free of his grip. “I can’t.”

_‘Your only failure is your reluctance to appreciate the gift I’ve bestowed upon you.’_

“I don’t understand. What gift?”

_‘The gift of my essence. You are a part of me, Ilia, as I am a part of you. You will never age or know affliction. Sickness will never touch you.  So long as I live, so too, will you.’_

“Jadus…” she hissed, cringing in horror at the implications. “What have you done? What did you do to me?”

_‘Only what I must, agent. Purging the light was only the beginning. Eternity holds the keys to the rest.’_

The frost inched further through her system, turning tears to crystals and breath to vapor. “Jadus…no. I don’t love you.”

He snatched her left wrist and held her fast. _‘This is not about love, Ilia, but something of far greater significance. This is no inadequate memento.’_

His thumb swished over her ring and dissolved the delicate band housing the Ulikuo gemstone Vector had given her on the occasion of their engagement.

“You have no hold on me, Jadus. I was cured of whatever you injected me with,” she spat. “I’ve been free of you for years.”

_‘Do not insult me with deceit, agent.’_

“It’s the truth. Leave me alone.”

_‘You fail to understand, agent. You have been elevated, spared from the coming cataclysm. You had my authority, now you have my protection. In time all will become apparent.’_

The frost conquered her awareness and darkness claimed everything.

 

The roar of rain and wind penetrated the darkness and her body quaked. Her blood warmed and shattered the controlling frost.

“Ilia… _please_. Wake up.” 

Her body shook and she woke, rubbing the sandy sleep from her eyes. “Vector?”

“Were you expecting someone else?”

She threw her arms around him and nuzzled the flesh above his collar.  “Thank the stars, it’s you.”

“We were concerned. Your body had grown cold and we couldn’t find your pulse. We’ve been trying to wake you but you wouldn’t respond. It was Darth Jadus again, wasn’t it?”

“It’s getting worse, Vector.” She pulled away suddenly, her attention fixing on her left hand. “My ring! It’s gone. He destroyed my ring!” She hissed, eyes wide.

“Surely that can’t be possible.” He caressed the pale band of flesh encircling her ring finger. “We _will_ find it.”

Ilia levered herself off the bed and after checking the folds of her gown, she shook out the blankets and sheets.

Vector ran his palms over the fitted sheet covering the mattress. A hard, pea-sized mass lay trapped between the creases under her pillow.  “We found it. But this is unusual,” he said, eyeing the stone, “the band is missing.”

“Let me see.”

He dropped the gem into her palm and she turned it over and held it to the light.  The stone glittered and remained undamaged, but it was as if the band had never existed. 

She blew out a sigh of relief. “I was afraid it was gone forever.”

Vector held her hand and pressed a kiss to the bulb of her thumb.  “It’s only a symbol, the love we share—that is forever. We will always cherish you.”

“I love you too, Vector, and I always will.”

“We are curious—what happened in the dream? What did he say to you?”

“He was in my head again—in my memories, but this time it was different, I _saw_ his face.  He became impatient. He melted the ring to make a point.”

“What point? We can see it troubles you—your aura is discordant.”

“He told me what the ritual was for—somehow he’s tied my life to his. He said I’d never age or become ill—and it’s true, I haven’t been sick a day since the ritual. Not once.”

“We suspect there are drawbacks as well,” Vector said somberly.

“As long as he lives, so will I. That’s what scares me, Vector.”

“We believe it would be wise to tell Theron and the others. From there we can formulate a plan of action.”

Ilia nodded. “Perhaps it would be best if we left—I’m endangering everyone.”

“No—for now, we remain here. There _is_ safety in numbers,” he murmured, trailing the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “We’re in the company of good people. We mustn’t allow him to flush us out.” 

“You’re right,” she conceded and clung to him, burying her face in his morning robes.

 

*

 

 

Andronikos mopped the sweat from his forehead and wrenched the fittings apart to remove the hose from the ship’s fuel port.  “Close it up, Tee-Seven,” he barked.

The droid rolled in and with a few twists of his tool arm, the _Sky Princess II’s_ fuel cap was shut tight and the valves calibrated to maximum efficiency.

Fernal emerged from inside the ship and approached him.  “How’s it look, Captain? Will it suffice? Or do I keep looking?”

“I reckon we got enough to get to Alderaan.”

“Good. Vowrawn tells me he has an estate there. We can refuel and restock and perhaps take a few days for some R and R and form a plan.”

“A’right. It’s been a rough week. Can’t wait to get off this rock. How’s the general doing?”

“He’s recovering well. Thank you for asking, Captain.  Seeing that he’s been confined to the med bay, he’s taken the liberty of having the supplies sorted and replenished.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t seem like the type to sit around idle. The kid workin’ out?”

“She’s proven to be quite clever and useful.  I like her—reminds me of myself when I was small. Quinn is impressed and he’s rarely impressed by anyone. Where did you find her?”

“Korriban.  We had business with the Overseer—kid ended up killin’ him and it didn’t feel right leavin’ her behind.”

Fernal’s lip crept up. “ _Impressive._ Which overseer?”

“Harkun. Him and Nox go way back—and there’s a bantha full of bad blood between them. Kid didn’t think much of ‘im either apparently.”

Fernal nodded thoughtfully. “Do you have plans for the child?”

“Been playin’ it by ear—see if we can find her brother, that’d be a start.  From there, who knows?”

“We need to prepare ourselves for the possibility that the boy will not be found alive—and if he is, that he is no longer the sibling she knew.  She needs to be trained and clearly, Nox has no interest.”

“That’s an understatement,” Andronikos snorted.

“That’s what I thought. I’ve been giving some thought to training her myself.  Quinn approves of the idea, and if she’s agreeable we could take her with us after this debacle has played out.”

“Hmph. Probably better to be with her own kind, get some learnin.’ She’s a good kid an’ all, but I can’t see dragging her around the galaxy. Piracy ain’ no life for a kid. She deserves better.”

“You’re a wise man and a hard worker, Captain Revel. Should you and Nox ever part ways, you’d be more than welcome to join my crew.”

“Just might take you up on it someday—‘preciate the offer, uh, thanks, Wrath.”

“Darth Fernal is fine. At any rate, once you’re finished, we’re ready. Vowrawn and Nox are anxious to leave.”

“I bet.” Andronikos wiped his hands with a rag. “No time like the present, I always say.”

“Excellent. We’re of like mind, Captain.”

 

 

*

 

Jonas slid in across the table from Theron and helped himself to a drink. “You look like nine parsecs of rough space.”

“Yeah. Feel like it too,” Theron said. “I’m no closer to finding those kids.  I figured Nar Shaddaa would be a breakthrough, but it’s like I’ve hit a wall, full speed ahead with no helmet.”

“So you weren’t able to get a bead on where the Wrath went after the auction?”

“Nada.  I’m right back at square one.”

Lana strolled into the mess hall with her lunch tray.  “I’m afraid I haven’t any leads either.”

Jonas frowned.  “Everyone settling in okay?”

“It appears so.  The doctor and his family have claimed the rooms nearest the infirmary and they’ve been working at cleaning and organizing the wing.”

“At least something’s going right,” Theron muttered.  His attention drifted toward the entrance as Vector and Ilia walked in.  “That looks like trouble.  Is it me, or does she look a bit freaked out?”

Jonas motioned over to them.  “Yeah, it does. That’s not like her.”

Vector pulled a chair back for Ilia at the table.  “We have a situation we need to discuss with you all,” he began.

“And you’re not going to like it, any more than we do,” Ilia added.  “It’s about Jadus.”

 

 

((To be continued…))


	50. Chapter 50

 

   

      

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Fifty**

 

 

The _Sky Princess II_ coasted into Vowrawn’s private hangar at Rhu Caenus Spaceport on Alderaan and at Nox’s command, the hangar crew set to work on minor repairs and refueling.

Andronikos watched the prim uniformed crew dubiously. “They know what they’re doin’ right? They don’t look like they’ve worked a day in their entire lives.”

“Welcome to Alderaan, m’boy,” Vowrawn proclaimed. “That’s how they all are.”

“We were here a few years back. They were a pack of snots then too, but nuthin’ like this. Hmph. Looks like they’ve only gotten worse.”

“I think you may be right. It’ll be fine, the droids are staying with the ship,” Nox muttered as she strolled by him to take Vowrawn’s proffered arm. “Is anyone coming to pick us up or are we taking a taxi?”

“A taxi, I think. It’ll give us a chance to browse the market on the way.”

 “So long as nobody expects me to ride on one of those karkin’ flying whales, we’re good,” Andronikos grumbled.

Sephna skipped out of the ship and raced to Andronikos’s side. “You didn’t forget me, did you, Nik?”

“Nah, course not.  Stick close, okay?”

“I will,” she beamed and looped her arm around his to imitate Nox.

“And don’t touch nuthin. Gotta feeling the snobs here wouldn’t like it.”

Fernal and Quinn were the last to deplane and followed the others at a slight distance.

“You may have a problem, my love. The girl seems to be rather attached to the Captain,” Quinn observed.

“Perhaps. Isn’t puppy love grand? Who was your first crush, Malavai?”

Quinn blushed. “Why it was you, of course.”

Fernal chuckled. “Good answer. Anyone else, and I might have had to hunt them down.”

“Careful my love. You’re beginning to sound like Jaesa.”

Fernal bowed her head. “I do hope where ever she is, that she fared better than Vette. I still can’t believe she’s gone. I know you didn’t care for her, but to me, she was like a kid sister. I could always count on her to make me laugh when things became too serious.”

Quinn pulled a handkerchief from his inside pocket and passed it to her.  “I should’ve been more tolerant. She was a child. Young and spirited.”

“Too young, for all of this,” Fernal whispered as she dabbed her eyes. “She deserved better.”

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You haven’t.  It’s something I need to work through in my own time. I’ll see something that reminds me of her and I…you understand,” she sniffed.

“I do, my love,” he whispered and drew her close.

 

At the market on the way to the taxi stand, Nox wandered past the tables of fine wares and fabrics sheltered under colourful canopies.  She ignored the eager vendor and turned away when a familiar Force signature danced on the periphery of her senses like an insect testing a spider’s web.

“You seem agitated. What is it m’dear?” Vowrawn asked as he paid the exotic caf merchant for his order.

“It’s—something I haven’t felt in a long time.” Nox scanned the marketplace and her jaw clenched at the sight of Togruta female browsing a table of Alderaanian wines. “That loathsome little milksop!”

“Your former apprentice? The runaway, Ashara?”

“The very same,” Nox hissed. “No apprentice leaves until I _say_ so.”

“She was a waste of your time and talents, m’dear.”

“Pathetic, she hasn’t even noticed us. Excuse me, I have a duty to perform.”

“If you need me, I’ll be right here with my frothy caf,” he called after her. “Hurry back, before yours gets cold.”

Seeing trouble ahead, Andronikos steered Sephna away. “You ever seen snow?”

Sephna shook her head.

“C’mere. See that white stuff? Go ahead touch it.  Pick it up and make a ball out of it.”

The girl scooped up a handful, her eyes wide. “It’s cold,” she shrieked, suddenly giddy.

“Get enough of it, and you can make a snowman or a fort. Or have a snowball fight.”

“I love it! Do you think Lord Vowrawn’s house will have snow?”

“Up in the mountains? Yeah, count on it. C’mon, I’ll get ya a hot chocolate.”

“Hot?”

“Yeah, it’s good. You trust me?”

“More than anyone, Nik.”

 

Ashara ignited her lightsaber as Nox approached and then retracted the blade. “It’s _you_. You found me,” she said. “Guess we have a lot to talk about, huh.”

“Not at all. Though I certainly didn’t expect you to be hiding here.”

“I’m not hiding. Not really.”

“Why did you leave?”

“I needed to forge my own path, away from you and the Dark Council and everyone else who tried to control me. Being on my own, I learned a lot about myself. I’m stronger than ever. I don’t want to be a follower. I want to be a leader.”

“If you wanted that, you should’ve stayed by my side.”

“With this new strength, I can come back—but as an equal, not your apprentice.”

Nox laughed coldly.  “You? _My_ equal? Hah! Don’t make me laugh. I have no use for a mealy, dithering ninny who can’t make up her mind.” Nox dug a nail into her chin. “Oh, shall I be Jedi, or shall I be Sith, oh woe is me, I’m _so_ lost,” she mocked.

“I’ve learned I don’t need to be either.”

“Then you’re nothing,” Nox spat. “My only regret is that I didn’t kill you after I devoured your ancestor on Taris.” 

Ashara reached for her lightsaber, but before her hand could curl about the hilt, her throat closed and her body began to rise.

Nox snatched the air in her fist and squeezed, her eyes gleaming as the Togruta clutched at her throat, eyes bulging.

“I should’ve done this a long time ago.”

The Market fell silent, all eyes watching the alien female twitch uncontrollably as she starved for air.  Black-purple lightning coiled up from Ashara’s feet to her throat and into her mind.  Her eyes changed to the same black-purple as the lightning and erupted as the bolts broke through. 

Nox gritted her teeth in a sadistic smile.  Ashara’s head lolled and Nox released her hold, letting the electrified and asphyxiated body drop to the snow-dusted cobbles. 

“Don’t make me go against my teachings indeed,” Nox added in a mocking approximation of the apprentice’s girlish voice.

The wine merchant stared at the body and then at the Sith, his jaw practically touching his table.

Nox smirked and slapped down a handful of credits in front of him.  “For the mess,” she purred and stalked back to her companions.

Vowrawn passed her caf to her when she arrived.  “Better now?”

“Much.”

Despite Andronikos’s best efforts to shield Sephna, the child gaped at Nox but said nothing.

Nox smiled sweetly.  “That’s what happens when you cross me.”

Fernal set a hand on Sephna’s shoulder.  “Enjoying your drink?”

Sephna glanced back at the Wrath and nodded.

“Good. Take this,” Fernal offered the child a canister wrapped in sparkling red paper.  “Now you can enjoy more whenever you like.”

“Thank you, Lord Fernal.”

Nox arched a brow and crossed her arms.

“So much excitement—such an invigorating trip to the market,” Vowrawn declared.

“Quite,” Quinn clipped. “The taxis have returned, shall we?”

“Yes, I believe I’ve had enough excitement for one day,” Fernal drawled.

 

A line of orange automated taxis waited at the stand along with three nests filled with enormous white and grey thrantas.  Sephna ran up to the first and reached up to pet it.  “Nik! Come see!” She commanded.  “What are they?”

Andronikos sulked and sauntered over to the nest.  “They’re called thrantas.”  The animal wailed at his presence and Sephna giggled.

“Can we ride one? Please? Please, Nik?” She clasped her hands together and hopped.

“I dunno, kid. They go up pretty high.”

“You’re not afraid, are you Captain?” Fernal teased as she and Quinn claimed the last taxi in the line.

“’Course not. I just like it when my transport doesn’t have a mind of its own.”

Sephna tugged at his jacket cuff.  “Please? I’ll be good and do whatever you say.”

“Hmph. Fine.  How can I say no to that?”

“Yippee!” Sephna squealed. 

As the taxis darted away, Andronikos set her into the saddle and hoisted himself up behind her. “Hang on tight, a’right? Fall off and I’m ain’ comin’ after ya.”

“Got it, Nik! Go thranta! Go!”

 _‘Maker help me,’_ Andronikos thought as the beast carried them upward. _‘I’m such a sucker.’_

 

 

*

 

The rain continued to hammer Rishi, the driving winds powerful enough to rattle windows and blow chunks of thatch from the nearby dwellings.

“If this monsoon keeps up, we may have to sandbag,” Jonas grumbled.

Lana peered out and watched the palms sway like they were about to be plucked out of the ground. “That’s the least of our worries. I haven’t been in contact with Lord Scourge to relay my report to the Commander.”

Vector and Ilia hovered over their cups of caf and watched Theron pace. “I told you, you wouldn’t like it,” Ilia said.

Theron froze.  “I’ve got a plan…but I’m pretty sure _you’re_ not gonna like it. And it depends on a couple of things that may not be possible.”

Ilia refilled her cup. “Well, let’s hear it then.”

“I’m thinkin’ we let Jadus catch you.”

“What?” Vector barked. “Theron, you can’t be serious.”

“Hear me out, ok? So far, no one’s been able to track the _Invidia_ to get to him, right?”

“Unfortunately that’s true. He’s made himself virtually invisible and undetectable,” Ilia said.

“I’m thinking, we implant a tracker, let you get caught. Once you’re aboard we’ll know exactly where you are at all times.”

“Then what? Sabotage from within? What if I’m imprisoned and that becomes impossible? He may try another ritual.”

“No, I see where he’s going with this,” Jonas interrupted. “You’re gonna distract Jadus one way or another—”

Theron nodded. “I’ll be following at a safe distance and I’ll slip on board—he’s got to refuel and restock eventually.”

Ilia mulled the idea over. “What if he waits until he’s in Imperial space to do it?”

“Won’t matter. I’ll be there and while you’re keeping him busy, I’m going to go _Ascendant Spear_ on his as.s. Then we get the hell out.”

Jonas smirked.  “You think he’ll expect a hat trick?”

“Hat trick?” Vector asked.

“Theron dusted the _Ascendant Spear_ , the _Apocrypha_ , as you’ll remember and now the _Invidia_.”

“And how do the pair of you escape, once it’s done? And even if the _Invidia_ is destroyed, that won’t necessarily prevent Darth Jadus from retaking the Empire.”

“Actually, that’s where you come in, Vector. You do have a part to play—which is the part I’m not sure about.”

“What do you need, Theron?”

“A fleet.  Think you can persuade your Killik buddies to give us a hand? I know they allied with the Empire against the Eternal Empire.”

“They used our people as cannon fodder.”

“I know—but with the change in leadership—there’ll be changes for everyone—for the better. Think you can manage it? Those spitcrete ships of theirs were pretty incredible and I figure one of them could tractor in an escape pod.”

Vector considered the proposal and nodded.  “Very well, we can do this, but we will need to return to Alderaan.”

“I can give you a lift,” Jonas offered.

Vector took Ilia’s hands between his.  “Is this what you wish to do? We’re concerned and we fear what could happen. We don’t want to lose you. If he dies—”

Ilia nodded. “I understand what it could mean but I have to try. It’s the only way we’ll ever free ourselves, once and for all. I have to face Jadus and do whatever it takes to end this.”

“There is something else you all need to know,” Lana began. “I’ve taken a look at the schematics removed from the vault and it appears to be just as you suspected Ilia. It’s an implant—a counter-agent to the FFA Chrono. I’m working on creating a prototype.”

Ilia smiled. “That’s excellent news, Lana.”

“It’s a step forward, but we will need a functioning Chrono in order to test the device.”

“That might be a problem,” Jonas murmured. “I’ll see if I can’t work it out. I did get a good look at the device, but that was a long time ago.”

“Then it’s settled.  We all have jobs to do, and I suppose there is no time like the present,” Ilia said.  “But before I go—I mean to have a little time with my husband.”

 

 

((to be continued…))

     


	51. Chapter 51

   

            

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Fifty-One**

 

Tall, quivering flames jutted against the backdrop of Yavin’s night sky. Thin, bright sparks carried the fire’s crackle upward before fading like spent firecrackers.  Shapes sprouted in the heart of the blaze but refused to form any coherent vision.

“You’ve been gazing at it for hours,” Scourge remarked idly as he picked through the leftovers of one of the ash-rabbits he’d killed earlier for supper.

The silence lingering between them made him wonder if Liatrix had heard him at all, but her sudden pivot to face him, told him she had.  “I can feel it,” she began, “something big is coming. Whatever it is—it’s growing—picking up momentum like a sandstorm.”

“I’ve sensed it as well.”

Her lips pursed bitterly. “The fire isn’t showing me _anything_. All I see is a curtain, and nothing I do will pull it back to show me what’s behind it.”

“Perhaps we’re not meant to see—not yet.  For what it’s worth, the fire hasn’t offered me anything besides warmth.”

“I hate it. It feels like—secrets are being kept from me. I feel like there is something I should know, but whenever I get close to the answer it slips away. We’re not meant to be here. It’s the wrong place.”

“We’ve been here far longer than would be considered prudent—and only _now_ you grow restless?”

“Have you been in touch with Lana or Quinn?”

Scourge hesitated, “No.”

“Why not? You’re supposed to be checking in with them every day.”

“I _have_ been—but no one answers.”

Liatrix narrowed her eyes.  “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I didn’t wish to derail your focus. Your training is vital.”

“For all the good it’s been doing me,” she snapped.

“Progress has been made, but it will take time. I believe, one day, you’ll regain much of your ability.”

“But not all.”

“ _That_ —is doubtful.” Scourge flung the rabbit carcass into the fire and wiped his hands on his trousers. “I have something for you,” he said quickly hoping to change the subject.

Liatrix watched him pluck a black leatheris bundle from inside his pack.  The narrow parcel was slightly longer than a data pad and bound in pale suede sinews.  “What is it?”

“Open it and find out.”

She tugged the bindings apart and unfurled the leatheris. Nestled inside the folds lay an ebony visor resembling a bandit’s mask, the eye holes covered with recessed scarlet fabric.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “Where did you get it?”

“I found the materials inside the temple, fashioned it to suit your needs.”

“How did I not see you working on it?”

“It _is_ possible to keep some things secret from you, my Lord Emperor,” he teased. Upon seeing the doubt in her eyes, he continued, “I worked at it while you slept. Besides, it’s not as if you’d know what I’m doing in my tent… _alone_.”

Liatrix smirked and fastened the mask in place, the engraved ebony a powerful contrast against pale flesh. “Ta-dah…how do I look?”

“How you _look_ is irrelevant—the question is can you _see_?”

“I see _you_ , the trees, the camp, even the ocean—all of it in varying shades of red like an old photo negative.”

“Good, the sight is almost second nature to you now. On your feet,” Scourge commanded.

She sprang to her feet a second after he did. His lightsaber growled to life and voiced its threat as he slashed the air before him to issue his challenge.

“No practice sabers tonight?”

“No. It’s time mistakes knew consequences.”

Liatrix drew her blades, igniting them in unison. She knew he expected her to lunge at him—to make the first move like she usually did—but she refused to indulge him. When he moved, she moved.  Step by step, she mirrored him, their gazes locked in a mutual hypnosis—two serpents calculating each other’s weakness.

Fangs bared, Scourge charged at her with the force of a bull ronto.  Blurry scarlet streaks zoomed past her head forcing her into a pattern of blocking and dodging. The tip of her blade singed his belt.

He tore free of the back and forth. Relentless, he came at her again. Growling blades clashed like a primal mating ritual between titans. Sparks sizzled in her ears and she gritted her teeth.

A Force push threw him back but invited another savage swing of his blade. It whooshed over her body like a scythe.  In a balance defying move, she shirked the swinging pendulum, her torso almost parallel to the ground.

Unable to recover from such an angle, she escaped into a backward somersault.  Seconds after she’d regained her footing, he came at her swinging.  Thrusting her blades upward, she parried his blow. The move distracted her and the back of his free hand connected with her cheek to send her reeling.  Her face smarted, blood coating her teeth.

“You lost focus. I am not only my weapon,” he admonished.

She coddled her jaw but forced herself to shake off the dull throb in her skull.  “That hurt.”

“Good. If you survive, I may make it up to you.”

“Hah. You wish,” she snarled and spat a gob of bloody saliva to her left.

Denying her a moment’s rest, he attacked, and again, she surprised him. Instead of the particularly vicious form of Jar’Kai she’d developed, she opted for Soresu form. Efficient blade work and subtle feints turned the battle to her favour.  To match her, he was forced to fight harder and cover more ground.  

“I _know_ what you’re doing,” he panted. “Fighting like a Jedi, hoping to exhaust me. Or worse—bore me into submission.”

“It’s working, isn’t it? And now, I fight like a Sith,” she snarled, both sabers spinning like propellers as she fell into her preferred form.

“Good,” he managed after the kick to his midriff that put him off balance.  “ _Very_ good.”

A dizzying mix of savagery and grace, they battled across every inch of the camp. Every clash, every stunt reminded of the days when they’d hunted Revan.

The playful duel devolved into a dangerous contest of one-up-man-ship just shy of the cliff’s edge.  Pebbles crunched under their boots and the breakneck dance continued until the berm gave under her right foot.

A strangled cry escaped her. Arms swinging, she fought to regain her balance.  Her blades retracted and the falling stones bounced off the cliffside. The scramble to regain ground only deteriorated the ledge further.

“Liatrix!” Scourge grabbed for her sash, the watery material slipping through his gauntlet.  Eyes wide, she tumbled backward. Just as he thought she was lost, he gained enough grip to tow her up. She fell against his chest and powerful arms caged her.

“Mind your setting.  _Always_ ,” he said with surprising calm.

She clung to him just as tightly. “I got carried away,” she breathed.

“We both did,” he scolded, carefully releasing his hold on her. “That’s enough for now—but you _are_ improving. You nearly had me.”

“I would’ve if it wasn’t for that,” she cast an angry side-eye at the jagged ledge.

“As I said, you’re improving,” he said, ushering her toward the camp.

They returned to the fire and the pot of fresh caf bubbling over it. Liatrix filled their mugs and sat next to him by the fire. 

He grunted his thanks and glared at the mug cradled in his hands.

Liatrix drew up her visor-like mask and blew at the curls of steam rising from her cup. “Something must’ve happened. Quinn and Lana—they wouldn’t just ignore us.”

“It’s most unusual. Neither strikes me as irresponsible.”

“Lana doesn’t cope well under pressure, but Quinn— _he_ wouldn’t avoid us—no way in hell,” she murmured, imagining the worst.

Almost as if on cue, Scourge’s holo chimed.  A complex string of code wriggled over the display. 

“That’s ours,” Liatrix exclaimed. “But why are they sending code across the HoloNet?

Scourge activated the Alliance decoder to reveal the transmission. “I suggest we find out.”

Lana’s image rose from the device.  “Commander, Lord Scourge, thank the maker I’ve found you. I have—terrible news.”

Liatrix set her mug aside and stood. “What’s happened, Lana?”

“Jadus attacked us. He leveled the base. We barely escaped with our lives.”

Scourge frowned. “Casualties?”

“We lost so many—casualties number in the thousands—only four ships including ours managed to evacuate. Jonas, the doctor, Kira, and their son, made it out with me. The rest—I ordered to lay low for the interim until we re-organize. For now, we’re working with our allies—Cipher Nine, Vector Hyllus and Theron.”

“ _Theron_? He’s with you? Did he say why he abandoned the Alliance?”

“Yes, and he’s fine, but I think it’s best if _he_ tells you why. It’s not a conversation for the holo. Just know that he was protecting you—he was never disloyal.”

“He should’ve come to me,” Liatrix said. “Whatever it was, we could’ve worked it out.”

“Yes—but we all know how Theron operates. He’s always had a mind of his own.”

“True. And what about Quinn? Where’s he at?”

Lana hesitated and shifted her weight.

“ _Where’s_ Quinn, Lana?”

“I’m sorry, Commander.  He’s gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean _gone_? He took leave, that’s what you mean, right?”

“No, Commander.  General Quinn gave his life to save us; when the automated targeting system took damage, he stayed behind to operate the ion cannons manually—to cover us, so we could escape.”

Liatrix shook her head incredulously. “And you _let_ him?”

“I tried to convince him otherwise. He made the decision and he insisted. We’re alive, because of _his_ sacrifice. If it wasn’t for him—I’m so sorry,” Lana blurted.

“No. _No_. That’s not—that’s _not_ possible,” Liatrix hissed, her voice shaky. “He made it out, he must have. Somehow.”

Scourge’s brows met. “Are you certain he’s dead?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I sent a probe to search for survivors. There were none.”

Fighting tears, Liatrix palmed the lower half of her face and turned away from the transmission.

Scourge paced, arms crossed.  “Where are you and the others now?”

“We’re at these coordinates—but I don’t think it’s wise to come here. Jadus’s spies are everywhere. It’s not safe.”

“His spies are irrelevant to me,” Scourge growled. “He made an attempt on the Commander’s life more than once and has interfered with both the Alliance and the Empire. That _cannot_ go unanswered.”

“We have a plan—we’re still in the process of pulling it all together. I’d rather not discuss the details here.”

“I understand,” Scourge barked. “We’ll discuss this again,” he added meaningfully.

Lana nodded. “Understood. I’m sorry I had to be the bearer of such bad news. You have my condolences. He was an exemplary officer and a fine colleague. Lana out.”

The transmission winked out and Scourge cast a wary glance at Liatrix. “The intensity of your grief confounds me,” he began. “No officer, no matter how efficient warrants this reaction. What was he to you?”

“He was my _friend_.”

“How close of a friend?” Scourge pressed.

“Close enough to know he was _devoted_ to his wife. He was married to your successor, Darth Fernal. You and she were in the same squadron.”

“I remember—she was an honourable woman, a credit to our world—and she was just as devoted to him.”

“And how would you know that?”

“Her last words were to _him_ …before the EMP took us down.”

“At least they’re together now,” Liatrix murmured.  

“Much to your chagrin, no doubt.”

She punched him hard enough to turn his head. “How do you expect this marriage to work, if this is how you’re going to be?”

He refused to give her the satisfaction of coddling his cheek, but the slight twitch under his eye betrayed him. “You’ve given thought to the state of our marriage?”

“Of course I have.”

“That—is unexpected.”

“Well, I’m just full of surprises, aren’t I,” she snapped. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed.  Morning comes early, and I assume we’re leaving for Rishi.”

“You assume correctly.”

She left him standing by the fire and stalked steadily across the camp before disappearing inside her tent. Halfway to his own tent, a realization struck him—she wasn’t wearing her mask.

 

*

 

At Vowrawn’s stronghold on Alderaan, Fernal leaned against the window ledge and smiled at the view.  Points of chartreuse grass pierced the waning blanket of snow surrounding a snowman taller than its creator. Three akk pups leapt and yapped to catch the balls Sephna threw in their direction. Andronikos Revel kept a distant guard and tipped a durasteel flask to his lips.

“You seem to be in excellent spirits, my love,” Quinn said as he sidled in to embrace her and share the view. “Have you spoken to her yet?”

“No, not yet.  I was hoping it was something we could do together.”

“It appears the Captain is heading indoors.  Perhaps, we should take this opportunity.”

“Good thinking,” Fernal turned in his arms and petted the front of his tunic. “Let’s go.”

 

Outside, Sephna brushed a cloud of snow from her mittens and stood when Fernal and Quinn approached.  “I don’t want to go in yet,” she protested. “Five more minutes. _Please_?”

“Not to worry, we’re not here to cut short your fun,” Fernal began.  “I rather hoped we could talk.”

“’Bout what?”

Fernal knelt on one knee before her. “I’ve noticed you have a great deal of potential—but all Force users require training—lessons on how to use their gifts properly. I’m of a mind to teach you if you’re willing to be my apprentice.”

Her eyes grew wide and her expression brightened but after a moment’s thought, her shoulders slumped and the smile on her face faded. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I have to find my brother. Nik said he’d help me.  I can’t leave Nik. He’s my friend.”

“It does you credit to show such loyalty and concern for them both—and should your brother be found, I would be willing to train him as well.  You’d be reunited and we would give you all the amenities you’ll require.”

Sephna’s brows furrowed. “What are _amena-tees_?”

“Food, clothing, a warm, clean bed; a caring home—and perhaps even in time, you might look on us as a sort of family.  The galaxy can be a harsh place alone.”

“Will you help me find my brother? He’s all I’ve got.”

“Not all—you have friends, and yes, we’ll help you.”

“I have enemies too. Darth Nox hates me.”

“All the more reason to let us protect you,” Quinn said.

“Precisely,” Fernal added.

Sephna threw herself at Fernal and hugged her.  “Thank you Lord Fernal, thank you, Gen’ral Quinn.”

Fernal returned the embrace and smiled.  “Good, then it’s settled.”

“But what about Nik?”

“Well, that’s up to him, but I did offer him a position on our crew.”

Sephna hugged her more tightly and buried her face into Fernal’s shoulder.

 

Inside, Nox stood at the window and frowned. “What do you suppose that’s all about,” she said, nodding at the trio in the snow.

Vowrawn leaned forward in his armchair and peered out. “If I were to guess, it appears to be the end of our problems.”

“Or the beginning.  Any word from your spies?”

“As a matter of fact, I did receive an interesting tidbit this morning.”

“Oh?”

“It seems Jadus is rather focussed on Rishi at the moment,” he said swirling his brandy.

“ _Why_?”

“Some obsession of his, what does it matter? We find him, we find the boy…two birds with one stone, I say—then we can finally return home.”

“My dear Veles, I do love the way you think—so, are we leaving for Rishi?”

“Not yet—why not enjoy a few more days here? Let my men do the dirty work—then we’ll pounce.”

“Perfect,” Nox purred.

“Not quite,” he said, taking her hand. “Perfection would be you on your knees, ministering to me.”

“I have an even better idea of perfection,” she said, kneeling.

He cupped her cheek. “One I will soon explore, my’dear.”

 

*

 

Jonas sauntered into the control room of the Rishi base. “Any luck yet?”

Lana stood.  “As a matter of fact, yes.  Your suggestion to broadcast the code worked.  I made contact—regrettably, all I had to offer was bad news.”

“Yeah—well at least we can reach them now.  They comin’ here?”

“Given what Lord Scourge said, I’m inclined to think so.  How was your trip?”

“Vector’s with his people. We should know later if they’re gonna help. Ilia and Theron are in position. It’s just a matter of time now.  Let’s hope Jadus bites.”

“What if the Killiks aren’t willing?” Lana asked.

“Then we’ll improvise like we always do.  Why do you have to be such a buzzkill? _It’ll work_.”

 

*

 

Four hours into sleep, Scourge woke with a start.  Suddenly alert, he cocked his head and listened. A piercing shriek silenced the jungle’s murmurs and a lightsaber ignited.  “That was no dream,” he muttered and tore out of his tent, weapon in hand. 

As he neared her tent, the shriek became a mournful wail. Cautiously, he pulled back the flap and peered inside.  Alone, Liatrix winced in her sleep, arms coiled around her pillow. A deluge of tears pooled under her lashes.  Her lightsaber lay at her side and a smoking burn pierced the pillow.

He knelt and scooped her into his arms.  “You’re dreaming. Wake up,” he murmured and gave her a gentle shake.  “Liatrix. _Wake up._ ”

After he’d pulled the pillow away, she woke in his arms, trembling. She flinched as if expecting someone else. “Whatever it was—it was only a dream,” he said, petting her hair.

“It felt so real,” she whispered, clinging to him like her life depended on it.

“What happened?”

“Deston—he was _alive_. I held him in my arms. I was so happy.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“But it was—because I _killed_ him,” she sobbed into his shoulder. “I killed my son,” she gasped. “How could I do that?”

“You didn’t—it was a terrible nightmare,” he reassured, pressing a kiss into her hair. “That’s all it was.”

“What does it mean?”

“Ssshh. Enough. It was only a dream—you could never do such a thing.”

After she calmed, he released his hold on her and moved toward the tent flaps to leave. “Try to sleep,” he whispered.

“ _Stay_ …”

Scourge smirked. “If I remain, there will be no sleeping. For either of us.”

“I don’t want to be alone.”

He considered her words carefully before issuing his surrender. “Who am I to argue with my Lord Emperor?” He asked, returning to her side.

 

((to be continued…))


	52. Chapter 52

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Fifty-Two**

 

 

When Scourge woke, he found himself alone.  Even without looking, he could tell the morning was dreary and overcast and the shivering canvas walls suggested the wind was picking up to bring a storm.

Liatrix’s side of the sleeping mat was cool to the touch—wherever she’d gone, or whatever she was doing, she’d left a while ago.  He could still feel the soothing impressions her fingers had left on his body and where his flesh had been tight and knotted, it was now relaxed.

Glimpses of the night before flickered in his mind—vivid tangles of scarlet and pale flesh—two bodies so thoroughly entwined in the darkness that it was uncertain where one started and the other ended. The draft skimming his shoulder as he dressed, could have just as easily been her hair.

For the first time in years he felt whole, his body energized but also serene. He broke through the tent flaps and straightened to his full height to survey the site.  Much of the camp had been packed up, only Liatrix’s tent and the food cooking over a low fire remained. 

He noticed her through the mirage wriggling above the flames.  She sat perched on a large rock, the wind rustling her hair in time with the waves rolling across the ocean below. In her hands, she held a sprig of wild grain that bowed when the wind touched it.

Cautiously, he approached her and stood by her side to share in the view.  He reached for her through the Force, but what he sensed unsettled him.

“I sense regret in you,” he said impassively—sternly. “You wish to forget—don’t deny it.”

Idly she rolled the weeds between her fingers and considered her response. “I do—but not in the way you’re thinking.”

“Then, by all means, enlighten me,” he grumbled, his lips clenching into a tight line.

“The first night I talked to my father, he asked me what I feared most.”

“Regret,” Scourge interrupted.

“That’s right,” she said, plucking the grain from the chaff and mindlessly tossing it over the ledge. “But I’ve realized something—without regrets, we’d never realize how important something or _someone_ is.”

“And last night, made you aware of this.”

“Yes—but it wasn’t just last night—it’s all the times we’ve shared.”

“You regret every moment we’ve spent together?” He growled, folding his arms across his chest to contain his anger.

Her eyes grew wide and she turned to face him fully. “No! Is that what you thought I was trying to say?”

“You _are_ being rather cryptic and you know how I hate games.”

“I’m sorry,” she smiled and reached up to take his hands in hers. “Sometimes, it takes me a while to build up to what I want to say, especially when it’s important.”

“How long have we known one another? Spit it out.”

“Fine. What I wanted to say, is that you’ve always been there for me when I needed you most. In spite of everything you still care. You could’ve walked away many times—”

“I _did_ once.”

“But you came back,” she looked up at him earnestly. “You’re everything to me. You understand me like no one else does. I’ve been too blind and stupid to see it before and I’m sorry.”

Scourge cocked his head thoughtfully. “And reckless and easily tempted and stubborn, and we mustn’t forget impulsive.”

“If you’re finished, there is _one_ more thing I’d like to say.”

“I could go on all day,” Scourge mused. “But I must admit, I’m curious.”

She eased herself off the boulder and stood before him.  Her gaze settled first on their intertwined hands as she organized her thoughts and what she wanted to say before meeting his gaze again. 

Scourge smirked and reveled in the heartfelt gleam in her eyes and the subdued turn of her mouth. “Yes, my lord Emperor?”

“I’m being serious and you’re making fun of me,” she said, eyeing him warily.

“Forgive me,” he needled and tried for a more solemn expression. “That was not my intention. Continue.”

“This place,” she began, “will always mean more to me than I can say, and because of that, it feels like the right place to tell you that I _love_ you and I want to make you happy.”

“You truly mean that,” he murmured. “I can sense your sincerity.”

“I’d like this be a renewal for us—another chance—if you’re willing.”

“I can’t allow you to shoulder the blame entirely—there’ve been times I haven’t been easy to live with either.”  He glanced down at their connected hands and caressed hers with his thumbs. “It has never been easy for us.”

“No, it hasn’t.  Fate hasn’t exactly been cooperative.”

“No,” Scourge barked. “Don’t blame fate—our difficulties have stemmed from misunderstandings, doubt, and secrecy. For this to work, we must allow each other in and accept that we create our own problems.”

“I know it hasn’t been easy, but nothing worth having ever is. I haven’t always known what I wanted, but I do _now_.”

“And what about the spy?”

“I won’t lie, I care about him—but you’re the one who’s been with me and when things seemed impossible, you knew what I needed. I thought I was finished and you showed me I wasn’t. You _saved_ me.”

“Don’t mistake gratitude for love.”

“I’m not!” She tugged her hands out of his. “There you go again—making assumptions about my feelings. I’m grateful yes, but more than that, I love you.”

“One night of passion brought about these realizations?”

“No! I’ve been thinking about things for a while now.”

“I _want_ to be certain this time. I won’t have you running back to him at the first sign of trouble.”

“I don’t know what I have to do to prove myself to you. You said you felt my sincerity—why isn’t that enough? I meant everything I said.”

He stood before her looking as if he’d been slapped.  “Given our history, can you blame me for being cautious?”

“I suppose not—but I was being cautious _too_. I took a chance with you last night and an even bigger one in telling you how I feel.  I’m almost wishing I hadn’t.”

“I’m far too old to be trifled with yet again.”  

“Do you love me?”

“How can you even ask me that?”

“Maybe I need to hear you say it in the light of day.”

“Last night wasn’t enough? I swore an eternity of oaths to you.”

“People say all kinds of things in bed they don’t mean the next day. _Do_ you _love_ me?”

His eyes blazed and every muscle grew taut at the possibility of battle, but something in her eyes drained the anger from his body and left him with the only answer he ever knew. “Yes, I love you. I’ve _always_ loved you. Since the first moment I laid eyes on you in my vision, there was never another. Only you.” 

“Then there _is_ hope for us?”

“Yes, there’s hope.”

The aroma of sizzling boar bacon, eggs, and fresh caf wafted up to meet them. “Then let’s have breakfast and after we’ll leave for Rishi,” Liatrix said, taking his hand.

“Perhaps not _immediately_ after,” he said suggestively.

“Oh?” Liatrix arched an eyebrow.

“One of us will need to scour that pan,” he said with a smirk and nodded to what might have been scrambled eggs once.

 

*

 

Bound at the wrists and knees in durasteel binders, Ilia watched the levels blink by as the elevator aboard the _Invidia_ carried her and her two captors steadily upward.

Crops of bruises girded her arms just above the elbow and blood oozed from the center of her lower lip after one of them struck her.  Her resistance had to be authentic.  In return, four scratches marred the larger man’s fleshy cheek just under his left eye and the second, with his upper thighs pressed together, cringed and rocked back and forth to sooth the blow to his most delicate anatomy.

The elevator groaned to a stop and the black durasteel doors parted with a whoosh. Beyond them the bridge crew paused their duties, their attention fixed momentarily on the new arrivals.

Lt. Illes met them with a curt nod.  “Lord Jadus instructs the prisoner be escorted to his personal quarters.” The lieutenant’s gaze shifted to her arms. “She’s injured, he won’t be pleased.”

“She put up a fight,” the beefy hunter croaked. “Junker here,” he said motioning to his partner, “may never breed again.”

“With his looks, that’s probably a good thing,” Lt. Illes muttered.  “This way.”

 

Before Illes could announce his arrival the doors to Jadus’s quarters parted.  The lieutenant swallowed hard and led the hunters and their prize inside.

“My Lord,” Illes said with a deep bow.  “As you requested,” he said gesturing to the trio.

The burly hunter laid a small pistol and a dagger before Jadus.  “Her weapons, my Lord. No sniper rifle though.”

Ilia scoffed. “I wasn’t planning on assassinating the market vendors, not when haggling is more effective.”

Junker jabbed her side. “Shaddup.”

Jadus circled Ilia. “My asset is damaged. Lieutenant, compensate the hunters less twenty percent of their fee and have them _shown out_. That’ll be all.”

“Yes, my Lord.”  Illes bowed his head and escorted the hunters from the Sith’s quarters.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Junker’s voice carried before the doors hissed shut.

“Still using the same code I see,” Ilia said, shaking her head. “Those men have no idea...”

“Their lives were forfeit the moment they disregarded my orders, Agent.”

“You ordered them to bring me here, and here I am. I _did_ put up a fight. Show mercy, my Lord.”

“Space kills instantly. Is that not merciful? My preferred methods would have extended their suffering indefinitely.”

“I suppose,” Ilia murmured.

“I fail to understand your guilt. Their lives meant nothing. They are not worthy of your compassion.”

“They were your servants. They obeyed you.”

“They mismanaged the simplest of commands. They were to bring you before me, unharmed. I didn’t spare them out of some misguided sense of clemency. I spared them because imposing their sentence would only serve to delay my plans.”

“Why am I here?”

“I prefer a more direct and efficient form of communication.”

“Surely that can’t be the only reason you had me abducted.  I’d only like to know why?”

“Long ago, you served me well. You dedicated yourself to me and my purpose. Selling secrets and living as a fugitive is a waste of your talents. You _belong_ in my service.”

“And that’s why you extended my life expectancy?  What makes you think I could be trusted to work for you again?”

“Motivation.”

“Just what do you think you could offer me?”

“The life of your husband and the lives of his Kind. I _know_ he returned to his nest. Betray me and they will be erased from existence—not only those on Alderaan but everywhere. Your disloyalty would trigger an extinction level event.”

“I thought Sith hated waste.  Why destroy them, if you could enlist them to help you instead?”

Before he could answer, the com interrupted. “Lord Jadus, your presence is required on the bridge,” Admiral Ethos announced.

Jadus lingered at the com, still and silent.  Ilia watched his mannerisms intently for any revelation.

“Hold position.” 

“Acknowledged, my Lord. Holding position,” Ethos replied.

“I suppose you’ll have to take me to the brig now.”

“That won’t be necessary.” He maneuvered her into the interrogation chair angled in the corner and restrained her. Saying nothing further, he left her alone in his quarters. 

She studied the room and considered the various doors and what was behind them.  The access pad on room across from her blinked red.

_Why would he lock a door in his own quarters?_

Unable to wiggle free from her restraints she considered her options.

_I need to warn Vector…somehow._

After her search for an advantage came up empty, she sank back into the chair.  Just as she closed her eyes a small voice whispered in her mind and her attention shot to the locked room.

_“Help me…”_

Ilia struggled against her cuffs, growling when she failed to loosen them.

 

*

 

Theron watched the _Invidia_ from a safe distance in his vessel.  An incoming com flashed over the encrypted channel.

“What’s going on up there?” Jonas’s voice crackled over the line.

“Well, two bodies shot out of the airlock about twenty minutes ago. Looked like our hunters. Guess I owe you that bottle, huh.”

“Things are shaping up. So far so good. Get back here quick, I’m thirsty.”

“You’re always thirsty. I thought you cut back.”

“I did, but I wanna celebrate.”

“Yeah, me too, buddy. Hey…something’s happening. Oh, Kark! They’re powering up weapons! GET OUT! GET THE HELL OUT NOW!”

“Stay on him!” Balkar shouted and cut out.

 

((to be continued…))

        

 


	53. Chapter 53

    

    

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Fifty-Three**

 

 

Smoke and dust dimmed what might have been Rishi’s sun. Jonas struggled to keep his eyes open—struggled to keep his focus on the milky pearl of light above him. The smoke stung his eyes and stripped his throat. He winced. The mask of dust made it feel like his skin was cracking. His body ached everywhere—but at least the ground had stopped shaking.

He lay still waiting for a blast that didn’t come. It appeared three was the magic number and the damage of those three strikes was enough to level Raider’s Cove.

When he drew breath, it whistled through his throat, the passage swollen and raw. The resulting rasp demanded he draw another, but the pain begged him not to.

The smoke thickened. A cloaked figure wearing a respirator blotted out the light and stooped to grab Jonas by the wrists.

He gasped when his arms rose up over his head and when the stranger dragged him through the lumpy debris. Flames licked up on either side of him, but he couldn’t decide how close they were. 

He tried to call out, but a gravelly cough cut his voice short. 

“Don’t try to speak, Agent,” the commanding voice above him said.

A fading Imperial accent—familiar—he knew it—but for all the credits on Nar Shaddaa, he was damned if he could put a name to it right now. 

 _‘A name…no name, he has no name,’_ he puzzled before blacking out.

 

The next time he regained consciousness, he was being dragged again—this time off the flatbed of a rusted lorry. The flames were replaced by lush green palms and a flaky mulch path.  Jonas strained to take in the setting and gagged on the humid air.

“I haven’t another oxygen mask to spare. The others need them more.”

“Others?” Jonas croaked. “How many?”

“Four.”

After a quick mental inventory, he sighed. “Thank the maker.” He beamed up at his rescuer, his teeth a dazzling contrast to the soot that blackened his skin. “They’re ok.”

Keeper released Jonas’s arms and propped him up against a tree. “That remains to be seen.”

“Lana?”

“She and Kira Carsen sustained severe injuries.  I suspect they attempted to shield your hideout from the brunt of the attack.”

“Where’s Lana…gotta see her.”

“She’s inside. My med droid is tending to them as we speak. The doctor, however, is the priority. His expertise will be required to treat the others.”

“I _know_ you…” Jonas rasped.

The man pulled off his respirator and threw back his hood. “It’s been some time, Agent Balkar.”

“Keeper—well I’ll be damned.” 

“I had hoped never to lay eyes on you again,” he said, injecting a Kolto-Stim blend into Jonas’s shoulder. “But it seems the galaxy has different plans.”

“Yeah. Likewise,” Jonas grunted and rolled his shoulder as the warming effect of the remedy took effect.

“Now—why are you here, Agent?”

Jonas struggled to stand. “Wasn’t by choice exactly. Jadus attacked our base on Odessen. How did you know we were here?”

Keeper thrust his hand out. “It appears you’ve sustained a blow to head as well.”

Jonas accepted the offer of help and clasped Keeper’s forearm to pull himself up. “Funny. Never figured you Imperial stiffs had a sense of humor.”

“Surely you recognize the absurdity of your question, Agent Balkar. Nothing happens on this island that I don’t know about.”

“You’re retired for kark’s sakes. Shouldn’t you be building birdhouses or a better dejarik table?”

“It appears old habits are difficult to abandon. I’ve been monitoring Darth Jadus’s actions since the attacks on Dromund Kaas and Coruscant.”

“Yeah—the bastard—framed us—blamed the Alliance,” Jonas managed before coughing again. 

“I suspected as much. Give me a hand with this, Agent.” Keeper dragged one end of the Ghillie blanket over the vehicle. “Come now, if you talk you can work.”

After covering the vehicle, they descended the ramp leading into the subterranean base.  The camouflaged overhead door groaned to a close, casting a dark shadow over them.

“How long was I out?” Jonas asked.

 “Nearly an hour.”

“So we’re quite a ways out.”

“Of course. Did the SIS not teach you a base is more secure away from the populace? And far less likely to sustain an attack such as the one you just survived?”

“Yeah—it’s in there somewhere,” Jonas grumbled. “But hey, sometimes you gotta work with what you’ve got. Not all of us have a vault full of credits stashed away.”

Keeper’s icy gaze bored into him. “Only a fool remains at a stepping stone. Only a fool won’t prepare for every outcome. You’ve gotten lazy, Agent.”

“A’right. Point taken. You gonna show me where they are or do I find ‘em myself?”

“This way.”

“I need to send a message, too. Gotta let Theron know we survived. He’s gotta be wondering.”

Keeper scowled.  “How did I know—where one of you goes the other is sure to follow. Where is Technoplague now?”

“Don’t you get tired sayin’ that? It’s a mouthful,” Jonas snorted. “Anyway, we planted a tracker on Ilia. She’s on the _Invidia_ now. Theron’s following at a safe distance.  When Jadus stops for refuel, Theron’s gonna get on board and work his magic.”

“And by what means will they escape, after he’s done so?”

“That’s where Vector comes in. He’s bringin’ the cavalry—the Killik fleet. They’ll retrieve the escape pod and keep Jadus busy—help take him down for good.”

“And now, she’s alone with Jadus,” Keeper muttered. “A foolish risk. Whose idea was this? Yours?”

“No…Theron’s.”

“I should’ve guessed. If Jadus kills her, there will be no place Shan can hide.  Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Jonas tossed his head. “I understand. She’s important to you.”

“She’s important to the _Empire_ ,” Keeper corrected.

“Whatever you say,” Jonas scoffed. “Not like I haven’t noticed the swing of her hips myself.”

“In here,” Keeper snapped and paused by the entrance to the infirmary. Jonas pushed past him and gaped at the line of medical beds.  The med droid approached them. 

“Report, H3-AL,” Keeper demanded.

“The child and the human male have been stabilized. Both females sustained severe concussions, broken ribs, internal bleeding and damaged vertebrae.  The blonde female has a broken arm. I have begun synthesizing their blood types in preparation for transfusion.”

“Excellent work. Revive the human male as soon as it is safe to do so. He’s a doctor and will be able to assist you with the others.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jonas nodded and drifted toward Lana.  He set his hand over hers and leaned in to kiss her forehead.  “You’ll be a’right, Frosty. You better be.”

Lana mumbled incoherently but didn’t wake.

“It appears things are proceeding well,” Keeper said.

“Yeah,” Jonas ran his hand over his jaw. “Dammit—almost forgot.  The commander and Lord Scourge are on their way here.”

“We’ll know as soon as they’ve entered orbit. I’ll send a droid to retrieve them once they’ve arrived.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s all well and good, but I still need to talk to Theron.  He needs to know we’re alive.”

“You’ll find a com unit across the hall.”

“Is there a secured channel?”

“They’re _all_ secured,” Keeper muttered, his icy grey glare following Jonas into the communications room.  


*

 

The durasteel plate floor vibrated under Ilia’s feet and the telltale pitch of weapon fire resonated throughout the _Invidia_.  She winced and closed her eyes.  Three strikes in all—more than enough to kill Theron in his shuttle or to destroy a surface target.

 _‘No_ ,’ she thought. _‘Those sounded like turbolasers—they’re mounted on the front of the ship. He fired on the planet, not Theron.  Jonas, Lana and the others—might be dead.’_

The small voice in her mind interrupted her silent anguish to add another casualty to the list. Ilia shook her head. ‘ _Not him. Not Garet.’_

Her face pinched miserably but with the approach of heavy footsteps on the other side of the door, she wiped her expression to a blank but alert slate.  The ship lurched and began to move.

Jadus strode into his quarters, robes billowing. He said nothing and stood with his back to her to watch the stars blur. Or maybe he watched the reflection. She wasn’t certain.

“You fired on Raider’s Cove,” Ilia said, trying for an absence of emotion in her voice.

“Yes, Agent. I concluded your business there permanently. Neither of us can afford the distraction in the days ahead.”

“Killing them wasn’t necessary—but it’s done now—and grieving solves nothing. I see we’re going into hyperspeed.  Where are we going, my lord?”

“Korriban.”

“Why?”

“My reasons are my own, Agent.”

“If I’m to serve you, you need to trust me. You set the terms for my service and I intend to follow them. So long as Vector and his people are safe, I’ll do whatever you ask.”

“Trust is not a commodity in which the Sith traffic, Agent. Trust is the final act of the foolish. It invites the unseen knife.”

“Then believe in my efficacy. You yourself said I’ve served you well in the past.  That hasn’t changed. I’m motivated to do what I must.  Surely the sincerity of your threat should be enough to guarantee my service, if not my devotion.”

“You’ve grown slippery, Ilia.  Experience has taught you to play the game and play it well.”

With a flick of his gloved hand, the cuffs holding her to the interrogation table fell aside.  She stepped away from the device and soothed her wrists. “Thank you, my lord.”

“Did Zhorrid ever speak to you about her singing?”

Ilia nodded and joined him at the viewport. “Yes, as a matter of fact, she did.”

“Her voice was exquisite—many thought it was good enough to make the hardest of hearts weep.”

“And did it?” She asked meaningfully and turned to face him.

“A voice is a fragile thing and easily broken.”

“Such a weapon couldn’t be allowed to exist,” Ilia mused. “Is that why you’ve imprisoned the child in the next room? Did his voice reach you too?”

“Your empathy invites trickery.  Don’t be fooled by the being in that room. He is _not_ what he seems.”

“He’s the reason we’re going to Korriban, isn’t he? Who is it, Jadus? Who’s in that room?”

“Did _he_ tell you this?”

“No. He only asked for help. Who is it Jadus? _Tell_ me,” she urged her voice barely a whisper.

He towered over her and stood too close. The cold came off his body in swathes, enough to incite shivering and goose pimples. Her heart shuddered, the beats suddenly uneven. Unseen tendrils crept inside her to choke the unyielding light within.

“An Imperial agent, with such a persistent light. How was it not extinguished years ago?”

“You left—you deceived me into thinking you were dead. I _grieved_ for you, Jadus. Had you stayed or taken me with you…”

“Doing so would have been to the detriment of my plans.”

“Then you thought about it.”

“I considered the part you would play and determined your role would be to distract Imperial Intelligence from the truth.”

“Ultimately, leaving me behind had the same effect.”

“You prevented me from achieving my vision, yes.”

“Only because you didn’t include me in it. I felt the full brunt of your exclusion. I was your Hand. I wanted _more_.”

“You believed yourself worthy to stand at my side as more than an extension of my will?”

“Once, maybe. I was young…naïve. I lost myself in your power, but no more. Vector helped me to find the good in myself again. I’m here to do a job.”

“Destroy the voice that makes you weep, Ilia.  Steel yourself and revel in the hatred you’ll feel.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s _your_ voice, Jadus. I did all I could. I hid from you—and you took that from me by having me brought back here.”

“Just as you deterred my plans, I have deterred yours.”

“And so you have. What do you want, Jadus? Who’s in that room and what do you need done? Just know I won’t harm a child, you’ll have to kill me.”

“I need you to kill the Commander of the Eternal Alliance.”

“But how does the child in the room figure into that?”

“I told you. He’s no child, but he _is_ the means to achieve my ends. _She_ will come to _us_.”

“So, he’s bait,” Ilia murmured. “But how will you control him, if he’s so powerful?”

“Leave that to me, Agent.”

The intercom chimed.  “Lord Jadus, I thought you should know we require refuel and resupply prior to entering our airspace. Recommendations?”

Reluctantly Jadus pivoted to face the unit. “Quesh.”

“I’ll inform them to expect us at once, my lord,” Admiral Ethos announced.

Ilia turned back to the viewport and stared out at the passing stars. _‘Maker help me,’_ she thought.

 

*

 

Theron stared miserably into the whorl of streaking stars, wrapped in ribbons of electric blue in the wake of an Imperial star destroyer. His hand curled into a fist and came down hard on the console. “Why did I listen to you? I should’ve turned back. Damn you, Jonas—and now you’re gone.”

He buried his forehead in his palm. The com unit chimed and Theron looked up slowly to answer it.

The blue holo matrix emerged from the device and after the static cleared, it assumed Jonas’s form. “Hey! You there buddy?”

“You’re alive?” Theron roared.  “What happened?”

“We were hit, but as sure as hell is blue, you won’t believe who rescued us.”

“You’re all ok?”

“Yeah, girls got the worst of it, but I think we’ll be okay.”

“So who was it?”

“None other than the former Minister of Imperial Intelligence himself.”

Theron laughed and slapped the console he’d just punched. “Thought you were pushin’ up daisies for sure.”

“So what’s happening up there? You still hot on his trail?”

“Yeah. Against my better judgment, but yeah. Looks like he’s heading for Imperial space—wait a sec, sensors indicate he’s changing direction.  He’s heading for Quesh.”

“Probably for that resupply you were hoping for.”

“Fingers crossed.”

Jonas’s image shifted its weight. “Oh, and just a heads up, Liatrix and Scourge are on their way here.”

“Good to know. I’ll check in before I board. You haven’t said anything have you?”

“No. Lana said she’ll have to discuss that with you.”

“Good.  Ok. Gotta go silent for a bit. Glad you all made it out in one piece. I’ll check in before boarding. Theron out.”

 

((to be continued…))

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	54. Chapter 54

 

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Fifty-Four**

 

 

Jonas prowled Keeper’s control room and idly tapped at one of the com stations only to be rebuffed by an ear-splitting alarm.  A menacing black and silver astromech rolled toward him.

The unit issued a shrill whistle and moved toward the station quickly enough to force Jonas to leap out of its path. It connected its tool arm to the console and deactivated the alarm. 

After it withdrew from the station, it turned on Jonas and nattered at him in a series of angry beeps and toots. “This unit=now authorized for your use. Any attempt at unauthorized access=terminal force.”

“Kark, you’re not kiddin’ around are ya.”

“This unit=not programmed to respond to SIS jest.”

“I think you just did. What’s your designation?”

“You=spy. Designation=classified.”

“Oh switch off. You equal a pain in the neck.”

A flash of gray caught the corner of Jonas’s eye and he turned fully to face the entrance. Lana carefully descended the three illuminated steps into the control room. “Annoying the droids already, I see,” Lana chided.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“The doctor said I could return to light duty.”

“But your arm?”

“Oh, this?” She patted the sling. “Only for another three days. The bones will have knitted properly by then. I’ll admit it has slowed me down, but I’m _far_ from useless.”

“A’right, but whatever you do, only use _that_ station,” he said, pointing. “Or N1-CE over here’ll terminate you.”

“It looks harmless, but I appreciate the warning.”

“Yeah, well, never say I didn’t do anythin’ for ya.”

The droid’s dome spun around to address them and its eye flashed an angry red. “This unit’s designation does not=N1-CE. Nor does it=harmless. Unit=lethal.”

Jonas laughed. “Lethal, right. What are you gonna do, beat me with your tool arm? If you told us your designation, we wouldn’t hafta guess.”

“I don’t think it’s wise to annoy it,” Lana whispered behind her hand. “We may need its help.”

The droid made a noise that sounded like it was spitting hot coolant and rolled to the opposite end of the room where it scowled at them like an angry cat.

Jonas leaned against the half-wall partition and crossed his arms. “That’s better. So how are the others?”

“They’re recovering—our host installed them into guest quarters an hour ago.”

“Good to hear,” he said, watching her settle in at the station. “You sure you’re okay?”

Her shoulders sank and her eyebrows and lips puckered sternly.  “Physically, I’m doing well enough, all things considered.”

“Then…what? You're making that _face_.”

“You haven’t realized it yet, have you?  The explosion destroyed _everything_ —the Chrono data, the counter-measures—it’s all gone. We have _nothing_.”

“Sithspit,” Jonas swore under his breath.

“Jonas! You _know_ that’s offensive to me.”

“Yeah, yeah you’re right. Sorry. Sonuvabish though,” he roared. “We were _this_ close,” he said, pinching his index finger to his thumb. “Unless Ilia made a copy for herself.”

“We can only hope, for all the good _that_ does. We need that data _now_.”

He sank into the chair next to her’s and propped his boot against the console. Jonas shook his head like that would silence his internal mutterings.

Lana sighed. “I realize we’re back to square one, but I was thinking—if we put our heads together—we could figure it out. We’ve both spent hours analyzing it. Perhaps even my predecessor could be of help.”

“I dunno.  Not sure I trust him.”

“Well, _I_ do.”

“Yeah and we all know how good a judge of character _you_ are.”

Lana stood. “I realize you’re frustrated, but to bring up past mistakes, is a low blow. Everyone makes mistakes and I’ll have you know I’ve learned from mine.”

“I just don’t trust him, that’s all.”

“Well, you’d better start. We need his help and he’s been gracious enough to rescue us, treat us and put us up.”

“Makes me wonder _why_. Did he tell you it wasn’t an explosion?”

“I haven’t spoken to him, beyond greetings.  I had hoped to later.”

“Jadus attacked us. He _leveled_ Raider’s Cove. Theron saw him powering up. I didn’t have time to get to you.”

“I see.  That’s all the more reason to trust our host.  He’s opposed Jadus before.” Lana dug the edge of her thumbnail against the swell of her lower lip. “Anything from Ilia or Vector?”

“Not yet. Theron should be in touch soon, he’s hot on Jadus’s trail—and before you ask, why he didn’t come back after the attack, it’s because I told him not to.”

“Good. I’m glad he listened for once. If he’d lost them, all our plans would be for naught.”

“He didn’t like it—he was beating himself up over it. I could tell.”

“No doubt,” Lana said quietly.

Jonas’s com chimed and he wasted no time answering.  “Jonas here…”

Theron’s voice crackled over the device, in audio mode.  “Hey, it’s me. We’re on Quesh for refuel, then on to Korriban.”

“Are you inside?”

“Yeah, laying low in the ventilation shaft. Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah. You find Ilia yet?”

“No, I’m working on it. Do me a favor and transmit to Vector.  I won’t get another chance. Tell him everything I told you.”

“Will do.”

“Hey, have Liatrix and Scourge arrived yet?”

“No.”

“Not a word, got it?”

“Got it. We’re in the homestretch now buddy.  Make it back in one piece and we’ll split my bottle.”

“Deal. Theron out.”

“Let’s hope everything goes according to plan,” Lana said.

“Yeah,” Jonas grunted.

 

*

 

The cloying smell of sugar-laced exhaust followed Theron on board the _Invidia_. He crept through the ventilation shaft, slowly, carefully, to avoid staining the front of his stolen Imperial lieutenant’s uniform. His elbows and the toe-boxes of his boots collected the brunt of the light soot coating the tunnel and with every meter, he advanced, he dragged a satchel full of charges with him—enough to start a chain reaction that would tear through the destroyer until little more than debris remained.

Unlike the time he boarded the _Ascendant Spear_ he had no partners working in concert with him and for the briefest second, he smiled at the memory of Gnost-Dural and Teff’ith and wondered where they were now.  Sadder memories budged the happier ones aside. Jace’s image formed clearly in his memory and fixed on the time they had dinner together and then the first time his father came to his apartment. It was a perfect moment.

He stowed the memories in the compartment where he kept everything he didn’t want to think about and focussed on the present. Working alone demanded the utmost care. He couldn’t afford to be caught and he couldn’t afford to fight.

He paused at the apex of the branching tunnels and chose to go left toward the engineering deck. The plan rolled in his mind like a movie, each step playing out in detail.  Envisioning what he needed to do, he thought, raised his chances of success.

A feeling of dread came over him next and it was one he couldn’t account for with any excuse except nerves. It was a bad feeling—like something somewhere wasn’t right.  The plan was going to hell but he couldn’t figure out how.

 _‘Now is not the time for cold feet,’_ he thought _. ‘It’ll work. It’ll work.’_

Minutes later, he came upon the hatch that would deposit him into engineering.  He cranked his arm forward to check his chrono. The shift change would begin in fifteen minutes and would be his window to gain access.  His fingers hovered over the register grill. Cautiously he tugged the handle toward him, turning the vents his way to give him a view of the chamber below.

 _‘Fifteen minutes that would feel like a century,’_ he thought.

 

*

 

Ilia stared at the door to the room where the child was kept.  Her gaze shifted to the security panel and it drew her closer.  Jadus’s duties and plans would keep him away for a time—she wasn’t sure for how long, but she hoped it would be enough.

Her fingers played over the buttons without depressing them. Attempting to slice the lock could trigger a ship-wide alarm for all she knew. One wrong entry and she would likely find herself in the brig and as much as Jadus unnerved her, she knew it was better to be close to the devil and his good graces than to be locked away.

She scanned the room for something she could use. Something that might short out the panel. The tray containing what remained of her midday meal lured her to it.  A mouthful of caf remained at the bottom of the cup.  Czerka security systems were vulnerable to moisture and she hoped the Imperial version had the same flaw.

Without a second thought, she snatched up the mug and carefully drizzled the contents on the top frame of the panel.  She blew on the liquid so that it would ooze down the narrow space between the wall and the panel. After dabbing away the excess with her sleeve, she returned the cup to the tray.

“C’mon,” she murmured.

Minutes passed before sparks emanated from inside the unit.  The door popped open and Ilia froze in disbelief.

_‘It actually worked.’_

*

The chime announcing the end of the shift echoed through the chamber and when the room emptied, Theron shimmied through the hatch and dropped down, careful to avoid jostling the satchel. 

He slipped into the chamber containing the fuel lines and pump. The pipes spanned the length of a Grav-ball field.  Strolling alongside them, he placed a charge on the underbelly of each pipe every five meters and armed them to respond to his detonator when the time came.  He stuffed the empty sachel into the refuse bin and gave the engineering diagram a quick once over.  Tracing the path to the level where the command quarters were located, he landed on the one that had to belong to Jadus.

Theron called for the service elevator and stepped onto the empty platform.  Traveling this way was a risk, but it would take hours off his search than if he’d remained in the ventilation system.

From the elevator, he slipped into the service tunnels above the level and counted the vents as he crawled toward Jadus’s quarters.

 

*

 

Ilia gawped. Before her, the child rotated and hovered inside the containment unit.  She bolted toward the device and pressed her hands against the field.  It wriggled under her palms but remained intact.

She watched the boy inside—a child no more than eight, maybe nine, with messy brown hair that looked like it had been licked by several nerfs. A light dusting of freckles covered the bridge of his nose and spilled onto his cheeks.

“You poor thing,” she murmured and caressed the field between them.  The boy’s eyes fluttered open and gaped back at her—the shade a golden brown she’d only ever seen in one other person.

A voice spoke inside her mind—the tremulous plea of a frightened child.  _‘Help me, please. He hurts me.’_

“I will, as soon as I get a chance, I’ll free you—get you off this ship for good. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

_‘Deston.’_

Ilia blanched and her memory took her back to the time she’d first met him—a toddler on the loose with his sister, playing hide and seek in Marr’s stronghold. _‘It all makes sense—he’s the Commander’s son—and he’s using him to get to her,’_ she thought. _‘He’s Theron’s son too…he needs to know. This changes everything.’_

“My name is Ilia. Where’s your sister, Deston? Sephna—wasn’t it?”

He gazed at her tearfully. _‘I don’t know.’_

“Where were you all this time? We searched everywhere.”

_‘Korriban, with Lord Harkun. We were his slaves.’_

“Listen to me very carefully. We need to play a little game of pretend. We can’t let on that anything is different for a while longer. But I promise you, with everything I am, that I’ll get you off this ship. Can you do that for me?”

The boy nodded.

“Good.”

Above them, the ceiling rattled, and a rumbling sound moved closer.  Ilia watched the air exchange grate above her and took a step back.

Theron peered through the grate. “Hey,” he whispered. “You okay? Is the coast clear?”

Ilia nodded.  “Be careful.”

Theron ripped the grate out and wriggled through the opening.

“Don’t be afraid, he’s my friend,” Ilia reassured the boy.

Theron brushed himself off and tugged down on his tunic.  “Everything’s in place.  Now it’s up to Vector.”

Ilia pressed her hand over her lips.

“What’s the matter?”  Theron asked, his gaze shifting to the unit.  “Who’s this?”

Ilia swallowed.  “He’s your son, Theron.  That’s Deston,” she added gently.

Theron’s jaw dropped.  Panicked, he faced the unit, his fingers sliding over the controls.  “Why didn’t you let him out?”

She stilled Theron’s hand and shook her head. “Not yet. We have to bide our time.”

“We’re still docked.  Change in plans—we take him and get the hell outta here—blow it when they release the mooring.”

“Jadus plans to use the boy to lure your Commander—Darth Incarnal. He wants me to _kill_ her, which I have no intention of doing.”

“All the more reason to leave _now_.”

Theron looked up at the boy and met his gaze.  “I’m your dad,” he said, eyes tearing. “We’re gonna get you out, right now.”

Heavy footfalls sounded outside the main door.  “He’s back. Hide!” Ilia hissed and bolted out of the boy’s room. The door hissed shut behind her, but before she could distance herself from it, Jadus entered his quarters.

He said nothing and turned his back to her. 

Ilia crept closer to the table where her meal tray was.  “How was your day? Did you accomplish what you hoped?”

“Your pleasantries are wasted. I sense deception in you.” He whirled around. “What were you doing prior to my return? I would advise you not to lie.”

“I have no reason to lie, Jadus.  I decided I wanted to see the prisoner for myself, and I did. If we are to work together, you _must_ trust me.”

“Did the being in that room communicate with you?”

“Not this time.”

Jadus turned away from her and started for the door. “You damaged the security panel to gain access.”

“I wouldn’t have had to if you’d trusted me with the code.”

He forced the door and Ilia’s body tightened.  She followed him and let out a breath when she saw the boy was still contained and Theron was nowhere to be seen.  The chair in the corner had been pulled closer to the unit.

“Why is this here?” Jadus asked.

“I wished to sit, my lord.”

A sift of coarse debris sat on the floor next to the chair. “And this?” Jadus demanded, his attention lifting to the ceiling and the grate.

“That, I can’t account for.  Perhaps it happened when we came out of light speed. It was a rather rough exit.”

Next, he examined the containment unit to find the settings intact. “Perhaps.”

“Would you like me to call maintenance for you?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Jadus strode out of the room to his desk and Ilia trailed behind him.  She pretended to pay him little attention and idly nibbled at the remnants of the roll left on her plate when he pressed the intercom button. “Admiral Ethos.  Conduct a security sweep—all departments, all decks.”

“What should we be looking for, my lord?” Ethos’s voice crackled over the com.

“Intruders—sabotage—anything that would interfere with my plans.”

“Of course, my lord. Your will be done, Ethos out.”

Ilia glanced across the table at him. “You won’t find anything, or anyone, my lord.”

“You’d better hope that’s the case, agent.”

 

((to be continued…))

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	55. Chapter 55

  

      

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Fifty-Five**

 

Liatrix and Scourge deplaned warily, lightsabers in hand.  Rain and wind pummelled their faces, as they gaped at the ruin before them. What was once the heart of Raider’s Cove, was now little more than a muddy crater.

The buildings, including the hotel they’d stayed at during their last visit, had been reduced to charred, ashen heaps and the welcoming neon signs lay scattered and twisted at their feet.

“What the hell happened here?” Liatrix bunched the lobes of her hood to keep the cold and rain out. “Who would’ve done this?”

“You really need to ask?” Scourge paced, examining the site. “The pattern of the strike, the blast radius—Imperial weaponry did this.”

“Jadus,” she hissed.

“Yes—no doubt looking for you, or perhaps your allies.”

Without saying a word, she sprinted up the shuttle’s ramp and returned with a satchel brimming with kolto and medical supplies. 

“Surely you don’t believe anyone survived?” Scourge asked.

“No. But—just in case,” she said miserably. “I’m not leaving here until we’re sure we’ve done all we can.  He did this to them, because of _me_.”

Before Scourge could reply, she’d already started for the ruins. A pattern of rapping against the debris and calling out broke the steady rhythm of the downpour. When no answers came, she moved on to the next and the next. A sickly groan rose from behind a pile of debris. 

“There’s someone buried under this,” Liatrix shouted over her shoulder. “Don’t be afraid,” she reassured the survivor. “We’re here to help. Hold still, we’re going to move this off you.” 

Together, she and Scourge levitated the rubble off the aged pirate.  “Can you sit up?” Liatrix asked gently. “I have kolto for you.”

The pirate’s colours identified him as a Corellian Run Scoundrel. “You’re one of Kai Zykken’s men aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but you’re still gonna help me, aren’t yeh?” The pirate croaked.

“I know your Captain, but don’t worry. Take this.  It’ll help,” Liatrix said. 

When the pirate hesitated, Liatrix added.  “No charge, it’s free.”

The pirate accepted the packet of kolto, but the tremors in his hands kept him from tearing the foil open. 

“Allow me,” Liatrix offered.  “Do you know if there are any other survivors?”

“Mmm. A guy came ‘round, picked up some folks—but he didn’ hear me. Haven’t heard no one else since.”

“Do you know where they went?” 

The pirate shook his head.  “Couldn’t see ‘em. Jungles…mebbe? Speeder sounded like it was headin’ that way. You some sorta _Jedie_?”

“No, I’m not a Jedi. Are you able to stand…or walk maybe?” Liatrix asked as she finished tending his wounds.

Scourge turned away from them, the rain battering his face. His fingers choked the hilt of his lightsaber at the sight of an approaching Imperial astromech. “It appears we’ve been discovered.”

Liatrix shivered, her cloak drenched. “What’s a droid doing out in this?”

“It could be one of Jadus’s,” Scourge rumbled and raised his weapon.

“See what it wants.”

“It _wants_ to mark our location.”

“We don’t know that. See what it wants, maybe it’s here to help.”

Scourge lowered his weapon but his thumb hovered over the switch.

The droid’s dome rotated and its eye flashed blue.  A beam of pale blue light wriggled in the downpour to form a broad-shouldered male figure. “Hey, I sent this droid to pick you up.”

“Jonas?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Good to see ya. Storm’s scrambling the transmission—dunno how long I’ve got. Listen, our base is toast, but we’re holed up with a—uh— _friend_.  The droid will bring you—just don’t ask its designation. It doesn’t like that.”

Liatrix smiled. “It’s good to see you too. But it’s not that simple. We found a survivor—one of Kai Zykken’s men. There may be more.”

“Our host rounded up everyone he could find—Doc is taking care of them as we speak. Blindfold him and bring him with you. Once this monsoon clears off, we’ll put together a rescue team, set up a clinic—maybe get the droids to put together a shelter. Sound good?”

 “Yeah, sounds good. I’m glad you’re okay. I feared the worst. How’s everyone else?”

Scourge eyed Liatrix intently but said nothing.

“They’re fine we can have a reunion when you get here.”

“See you soon.”

“Yeah. Jonas out.”

The holo light winked out and Jonas’s image vanished.  The droid summoned a black Czerka speeder and spewed a rapid burst of beeps at them.

“One moment,” Liatrix raised her hand to stall the droid.

Scourge hefted the scrawny old pirate to his feet and arranged him into the rear seat of the speeder. Liatrix removed her sash and covered his eyes.

“Sorry, we have to do this, but you’ll be safe and you’ll get the care you need. Trust me,” she said.

“Yeh didn’ hafta do this, so I trust yeh.”

“Good,” Liatrix patted the pirate’s wizened hand and settled into the speeder next to Scourge.

The droid warbled a command and the vehicle sped off toward the jungle and the darkening sky.

 

*

 

The crew of the _Invidia_ scoured every deck, level, and service tunnel for the intruder and found no one.

Theron observed the crew from inside a gonk droid.  Crouching inside the unit while performing its tasks in the hangar was a more awkward challenge than he would’ve liked. _‘I have to get back to them—I can’t leave without my son.  Can’t leave Ilia to that monster either,’_ he thought.

While the mechanics and deck officers searched, Theron sliced the ship’s com frequencies and transferred them to his implants.

He marched up the ramp of one of the Imperial shuttles.  The cargo area had taken damage and he settled into work on the vessel and eavesdrop. 

Theron tapped into the com in Jadus’s quarters and waited.  He didn’t have to wait long before Admiral Ethos arrived.

“Report, Admiral. What did your men find?” Jadus asked.

Ethos cleared his throat and clasped his shaking hands behind his back.  “We found charges placed along the pipes running from engineering to the fuel processing chamber. They’ve been removed and rendered inactive.”

“And the intruder?”

Ethos moistened his lips before answering. “There’s no sign of an intruder, my lord. We’ve searched every square meter of the ship.”

“Those charges didn’t plant themselves, Admiral.”

“No, my lord. But I assure you, there’s no intruder…perhaps they escaped while we were moored.”

“I suggest you find whoever planted those charges, Admiral,” Jadus hissed with obvious menace.

Ilia scoffed from the corner, arms folded. “You’re wasting the good Admiral’s time, my lord. I _told_ you there’s no one else aboard—that you’d find no one.”

Admiral Ethos whirled on her. “It was you then, wasn’t it?  _You_ set those charges. How else would you know?”

“It appears you’ve caught me.  Yes, it was me. I did it,” Ilia said placidly. “It was only a matter of time before you’d figure it out—the chair, the debris on the floor. I’d only just returned when you did, Jadus.”

Theron’s eyes bulged inside the droid.  _‘Ilia! What are you doing? He’s gonna kill you!’_ He muttered a string of High Gamorrean and bashed his metal fist against a crate.   _‘I can’t believe she’d just give herself up like that.’_

“Admiral, you’re dismissed.”

“Shall I take her to the brig, my lord?” Ethos pressed.

“I _said_ , you’re _dismissed_ , Admiral.”

“Apologies, Lord Jadus,” Ethos rambled and shot out of the Sith lord’s quarters post haste.

Silence hung heavily between Jadus and Ilia before he spoke.  “Why?”

“I’m surprised you have to ask. Insurance of course.  I wanted to be certain Vector would be safe as promised, after I completed the assignment. It’s quite simple really if any harm were to befall my husband, I wouldn’t hesitate to destroy you. My feelings for you be damned.”

Theron shuddered inside the droid, bile creeping up his throat _.  ‘And I thought I was crazy. What the hell is she doing?’_

His thoughts raced, searching for a way out, a plan, something to free them all from Jadus’s machinations and then a realization struck him.

Ilia had cleared the way for him to escape with the boy. She’d turned Jadus’s rage and focus onto herself and a nauseating pang of guilt bloomed within him; he’d thought badly of her even after he’d made his peace with her. He was at once impressed and horrified by what she had done.

“You scheme like the Sith, agent, but despite your ability, a mere human will never best me. I’ve given you my word, agent. Kill the Alliance Commander and Vector Hyllus and his Kind will survive.”

“Forgive me, my lord, but when you faked your death and left me behind, you broke my heart _and_ my trust. How can I ever be certain you’ll keep your word?”

“With the same certainty, I have in you, agent.”

Theron winced at the exchange and shuddered inside the droid suit. _‘She’s got nerve, I’ll give her that. But Jadus? No way, she’d ever go for him. Urgh.’_ Jadus’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“It appears additional motivation will be required.”

“Whatever you’re planning, Jadus, _please_. I’ll do anything—I’m begging you—don’t harm Vector. That’s _all_ I ask.”

Jadus depressed the intercom. “Admiral Ethos, report to my sanctum immediately.”

Theron’s breath caught at the implied threat. _‘Gotta warn them—but how? They’re monitoring outgoing frequencies. If I warn Vector they’ll trace it to me and I’m no good to any of them if I’m dead.’_

*

Jonas paced Keeper’s control room.  The holocom unit chimed and a familiar frequency scrolled along the display.  “Let’s hope it’s not trouble,” he muttered to himself and answered.  “Vector! Tell me you’ve got good news.”

“We’re pleased to inform you, everything seems to be going according to plan.  The nest has agreed to help us. While they do not understand the connection we share, they understand the necessity of protecting their own. Has Theron succeeded?”

“Yeah, last I heard he boarded the _Invidia._ He hadn’t found Ilia yet, but they were refueling at Quesh and after that, on to Korriban. Don’t worry, I’m sure he’s got everything under control,” Jonas reassured.

“Korriban—an unusual choice of destination. It makes us wonder what Darth Jadus is planning.”

“Your guess is as good as mine, but I think it’s as good a place to strike as any. It’s far enough away, that any backup will take a while to show up. Let’s end this…end Jadus.”

“Agent—we do have some concerns—he used Sith alchemy to forge a connection with Ilia. We’re concerned—if he dies, so will she. There must be another way. Surely you understand our worries.”

“Yeah, yeah, I understand.”

“We will bring it up to the nest. Perhaps they will have insight. In the meantime, it appears we are on our way to Korriban. Vector out.”

After Vector’s image faded, Jonas frowned.  “I’d rather kill the bastard,” he sighed. “There has to be another way.”

He ran his hand through his hair and left the control room.  “Guess I’d better see how Lana’s making out with restructuring the Chrono.”

Half-way down the hall, Jonas heard voices filtering out of one of the anterooms.  Following the conversation, he ducked into a niche near the doorway and listened.

“Cipher Nine and Vector Hyllus are working in concert with the Killiks to sabotage the _Invidia_. If all goes as planned, Darth Jadus will no longer be an issue,” Keeper said.

Jonas dared a peek into the room.  The image of a flamboyantly dressed Sith Lord hovered over the com unit and he smiled too much for Jonas’s liking.

“And what of Marr’s daughter and her Wrath?” The Sith asked.

“They should be arriving presently.  Agent Balkar saw to their welcome—though it’s my understanding she’s been injured by one of the units. The models we had, have been destroyed. We require another—to develop the counteragent.”  

“Excellent,” the Sith clasped his hands together. “It so happens one of our men has one of the units. Slightly damaged, but it should suffice. I’ll be in touch about the rest.”

Keeper bowed slightly. “Of course, Lord Vowrawn.”

After the Sith’s image fizzled, Balkar drew his pistol and marched into the chamber. “You wanna tell me what all that was about? I should’ve known you didn’t come up with these fancy digs all by yourself.”

“That would be where you’re mistaken. I learned early in my career to be prepared. Now lower your weapon if you wish to be briefed.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“That much is evident. Shoot me, or listen. It’s your choice, agent.”

Lana burst into the room behind Jonas. “What are you doing? Is that any way to treat an ally? Put your weapon down.”

“I’m not sold that he’s with us. I just caught him talking to a dead man—who looked _very_ good for his condition.”

“If I wished to keep the conversation secret, I would’ve closed the door,” Keeper hissed. “Don’t be a fool agent. Put down your weapon or use it.”

“I’d prefer you didn’t,” Lana murmured and clasped Jonas’s arm.  “You should both know that the Commander and Lord Scourge have arrived. The survivor they found has been escorted to the infirmary.”

“He _knew_ Liatrix was hurt by the Chrono.  How long have you been listening on us? Huh?”

“Jonas— _I_ told him—just this morning.”

“Fine,” Jonas snarled and holstered his weapon.  “So… _talk_.”

 

 

((to be continued…))


	56. Chapter 56

 

     

     

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Fifty-Six**

 

 

Lana wedged herself between Keeper and Jonas but sharpened her focus on the younger man. “The Commander and Lord Scourge are waiting in the conference room. I think it best we apprise them of the situation and our plans.”

“Agreed,” Keeper said. “A briefing is in order.”

Jonas blocked the Imperial’s path. “You should’ve had Vowrawn send the schematics for the Chrono. Then we could’ve gotten a leg-up on the counter-measures.”

“That may well be the most useful thing you’ve said since your arrival, Agent Balkar.”  Keeper pivoted his heel and strode toward the conference room. When they arrived, he indicated the entrance with an upturned hand, allowing the others to enter before he did.

The meeting room was comfortably appointed with a long oval conference table and upholstered chairs.  The walls and floor were constructed of mottled grey stone panels and a black and red Corellian rug swallowed the room’s echoes.

Liatrix and Scourge eyed the doorway as Lana, Jonas, and Keeper filed in. Liatrix and Keeper shook hands and traded brief introductions, while the others took their places at the table. A service droid set a refreshment tray at the center of the table and left.  

“I served your father for many years,” Keeper added after his introduction.

“It’s an honour to meet you at last. He always spoke highly of you and I’d always hoped I’d have the pleasure of meeting you.”

“It was quite mutual, I assure you, Darth Incarnal.”

“This is quite a facility you have here,” Liatrix said. “I understand that Doctor Kimble and his family have settled in. I appreciate the hospitality you’ve shown my people.”

“Something I would extend at any time, but especially during a crisis such as the one we’re experiencing now,” Keeper said.

Liatrix took a seat in the proffered chair. “Is there anything we can do to help the survivors?”

“All that can be done at this moment, is being done.  Regrettably, we have larger concerns at this time.”

Jonas shifted his weight. “Now maybe you’ll tell us why you were talking with Vowrawn. What’s he got to do with all this?”

“I’m a patriot, agent. The state of the galaxy is such that those of a like mind must work together to defeat the enemy. We need to rebuild before others smell blood. We need to be ready for all comers—and you can guarantee the Republic is thinking similarly. The war with Zakuul depleted our resources and a prolonged conflict with Jadus would only bring further ruin to the Empire.”

Liatrix served herself a cup of black caf. “Jonas told us about the plan involving Theron, Cipher Nine, and Vector Hyllus.”

“Good,” Keeper said with a nod. “Regrettably the plan has a high probability of failure, but no better options were available to us at the time.”

“Theron and Ilia are sabotaging Jadus’s ship,” Jonas began, “so when Vector and his Killik buddies show up, they’ll get a head start taking Jadus out.”

Liatrix frowned. “And how are Theron and Nine supposed to escape?”

Scourge eyed her when she spoke the spy’s name, but sensed nothing amiss in her expression or her feelings. She gave nothing away. Reading her was like reading a blank data pad.”  

“Vector is seeing to that,” Lana said.

Liatrix pushed her caf forward on its saucer. “Vector has a lot on his plate. I’d feel better if we had a backup plan. If the Killiks aren’t there, Theron and Nine would be stranded.”

“What’d you have in mind?”  Jonas asked.

“Catch up to them, stay out of range, make sure everything goes according to plan. What’s their heading?”

“Korriban.”

“Then once we get fuelled up, Scourge and I will head that way—unless there’s any objection?”

“Fuel could be a problem,” Lana said.  “The storm has all but demolished fueling stations, not to mention most were drained in anticipation of it. You may be stuck here for a day, two at most until we can secure what we need.”

“Do what you can, Lana. We need to find Jadus. I need to confront him for all he’s done.”

“Yes, Commander.”

The meeting continued for half an hour and after it ended Liatrix started for the door when a hand closed around her elbow.

“Jonas, did you forget something?” She asked.

“Just wanted to know how you were—and about this mask,” he murmured with a nod to the sleek ebony fabric covering her eyes.

“Scourge made it. He taught me how to see with the Force—the mask helps me focus.”

“Like the Miraluka, right?”

Liatrix smiled. “Yes, exactly.”

“Am I still as handsome through the Force?”

She laughed. “You never change.” 

“Thanks—there is one thing you need to know. You can’t kill Jadus—he’s tied to Ilia somehow and if he dies, she might too.”

Liatrix sighed.  “I wanted to end this once and for all.”

“And you _can_ —just find a way to do it without killing him.”

“I’ll try,” she promised.

 

Scourge glowered but before he could interrupt, Keeper had already beaten him to it.

“There is a matter I wish to discuss with you in private, my lord.”

Liatrix glanced back at Scourge before answering Keeper. “All right,” she agreed cautiously and accompanied him down the hall to one of the private anterooms.

Jonas watched them leave and frowned. “I don’t like it.”

“Nor do I,” Scourge muttered.

“Hey,” Jonas smirked. “Did _we_ just agree on something?”

“I doubt it,” the Sith snorted and stalked off.

 

Keeper closed the doors behind them and ushered Liatrix toward a desk and chairs. “Please have a seat.”

“What’s this about?” Liatrix asked.

“Your family.”

“You mentioned serving my father.  Is it about him?”

“No—no, more precisely, it’s about your mother.”

“You _knew_ her?”

“Quite.”

“I wish _I_ had,” Liatrix gazed down at her clasped hands. “I don’t remember much—most of what I know, my father told me. I was just a child when I was abducted.”

“The Jedi stole your memories, yes?”

Liatrix nodded.  “I’ve since learned that I wasn’t the first or only one they’d tampered with.”

“No, most certainly not.”

“You _knew_ about it.”

“Information is security—protection for our Empire. It can also serve as a currency to be exchanged and sold to maintain our inviolability.”

“Is _that_ how you got out alive?”

Keeper eyed her keenly. She had much of her father’s instincts and manner, but there was an unnerving sharpness below the surface; a maelstrom of dark water ready to tow the reckless to their death. “I refuse to be coy or deceptive—yes, I used secrets to secure my retirement.”

“Did you blackmail my father? Do you mean to blackmail _me_?”

Blunt on the surface but with a razor concealed inside. He answered carefully. “No. Never.”

“Where you afraid of what he’d do if he learned the secrets you’re keeping?”

“A logical assumption, but no. I spared your father certain truths because he had suffered enough. He’d lost his wife and child the day I learned the truth.”

Liatrix cocked her head and took her time before answering. “I’m not sure I understand why you asked to talk to me?”

“I’ve followed your career, my lord. I know the heights and depths of which you’re capable to achieve your ends—exemplary achievements others can only marvel at.  But I’ve found in my experience that those who chase excellence, and especially those that catch it are incomplete.”

She smiled sadly. “I won’t deny I’m confused about my parent’s feelings for each other. Will you tell me about her? Please?”

The razor instinct vanished alongside the darkness within a blanket of humanity. She was capable of both depending on provocation, much like her father had been, Keeper thought.  

“I have a data disk with the information I’ve compiled—every entry made in the journal she’d kept as well as everything I’ve accumulated over the years,” he said softly and withdrew the file from his desk drawer. “Portions of it won’t be easy for you.”

Keeper slid it toward her and she eyed the disc as if it might bite. “It’s strange—you’re giving me something I’ve wanted my whole life—and now that the answers are within reach, I wonder…”

“If you should know them,” he said, finishing her sentence.

Liatrix turned the disc over in her hands. The outside was unremarkable and ordinary, but the promise of what was inside was too much to resist.  “May I read it here?”

“I’ll give you privacy,” he said, rising.

“No—if it’s all the same, I’d rather you stay.”

Keeper hesitated.

“ _Please_.”

Keeper sat. “Of course. If you have questions…”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

 

Keeper made a show of studying this year’s storm forecast while Liatrix read. She’d removed her bandit’s mask and it hung loosely from her wrist. The aloof persona gave way to one more tender. Emotions passed like a never-ending train of magician’s scarves and when she finished she was pale and silent.

“I realize that mustn’t have been easy for you,” Keeper said.

“She was more complicated than I imagined. So was their marriage. I’m sorry Keeper, I’m going to need some time to process it all but I’m grateful to you for sharing it with me.”

“Take all the time you need—that knowledge is for you alone.”  He rose and tapped at his com.  “Personal archive—erase all entries pertaining and relating to Liaseph Teraan and Liaseph Marr.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“No, my lord. It was time.  I’d kept it to spare a man I admired but when I learned you were alive, I knew that it was your right to know and my duty to inform you.”

“Do you have children, Keeper?”

“We haven’t spoken in years.”

“I’m sorry...”

“Don’t be,” he interrupted.

“When all this business with Jadus is over—may I come back and see you?”

Keeper cocked his head. “Why?”

“Because you know _everything_ about my father—I miss him.”

“Knowledge of a man and his character does not the man make.  I would be a poor stand-in for his memory and I can no more offer you his insights than he can.”

A moist sheen just shy of tears brightened her eyes. “I understand.”

“I am curious—how do you plan to proceed in terms of the Empire? Will you restructure?”

“My father had an idea of what he wanted the Empire to be, but he was always held back by the Emperor’s whims and grudges.  I want what my father wanted—strength, stability, and superiority.”

Keeper’s gaze narrowed. The doors behind Liatrix burst open. “Commander, you need to see this,” Lana exclaimed.

“What is it?” Liatrix asked. “Has something happened?”

“It’s a communication from Jadus himself.”

Keeper returned to his com.  “IC-FIN—transfer the transmission to this station at once.”

Scourge and Lana arrived first with Balkar on their heels. The wall-sized monitor flickered the words ‘stand by’ scrolling across the screen in Aurebesh.

“I wonder what he wants?”  Liatrix mused.

Keeper frowned. “Put it through.”

Darth Jadus dominated the visual, but in the background, Ilia lay suspended against the angled interrogation table. Exhausted, her chin hovered over her sternum and her pert red hair lay matted over her eyes, wisps clinging to her cheeks.

Though Keeper remained cool, expressionless, and visually unmoved, Liatrix sensed his rage surging in his blood. Beneath it, a flurry of quieter emotions—fear, worry, helplessness—love. The cipher meant something to him. 

The visual fluttered and Jadus spoke. “At last, we speak. The time has come for us to meet.”

“How did you know where to find me?” Liatrix demanded.

“Your decaying spirit—the blight spreading through the Force allowed me to find you as surely as a beacon. Even incapacitated, you are an affliction rivaling that of our former Master. You are a disease that must be eradicated before the galaxy can be remade to _my_ specifications.”

“You tried something similar once.  You _failed_ then—and you’ll _fail_ now,” Liatrix declared.  

“I will meet you on Korriban, at these coordinates, Incarnal. Do not keep me waiting.”

Lana whirled on Liatrix. “Commander it’s a trap. There’s no reason for you to walk into it!”

“She’s right. Don’t do it,” Jonas snapped.

“Your advisors are mistaken. There are _many_ reasons to meet me, but only _one_ to compel you.”

Liatrix scoffed. “Right, name it.  Besides killing you and ending this.”

“Your son.”

She stiffened and Scourge set a hand on her shoulder, brows furrowed, his gaze uneasy.

“I don’t believe you. You didn’t need to make up stories.  I’ll face you and you _will_ regret it.”

“I thought proof may be an issue.  Admiral,” Jadus gestured to someone out of view.  Two officers pushed the hover device into the camera’s vista. 

Inside the force containment field, a small boy with womprat hair, golden-brown eyes and pale tawny skin rotated. The child appeared to be unconscious, but the display at the bottom of the unit indicated he was very much alive.

“Littlebean,” Liatrix whispered so faintly it might’ve been a breath.

The child’s eyes snapped open, urgent and pleading, at that moment, as if he’d heard the endearment and his left palm slapped the field.

“Increase the frequency,” Jadus ordered.  The officers stepped in and altered the settings.  The child flailed and fell unconscious.  “I suggest you hurry, Incarnal. He is so very _small_.”

A thunderous boom sounded in the transmission and the ship rocked hard enough to seemingly unbalance even Jadus. The items around him tumbled to the floor and Ilia’s head jounced from the impact.  One of the assisting officers gaped at the viewport, “We’re under atta—”

Jadus choked the officer’s admission before he could finish and the body fell to the floor with a thud. Another boom rocked the ship, ending the transmission, only to leave a black screen and static in its wake.

Liatrix paled, her body rigid and unmoving.  “I have to get him.”

“That would be foolhardy. I forbid you to do it,” Lana cried.

“Lana’s right,” Jonas agreed.

“I’m saving my son and that’s the end of it. Don’t just stand there. Find me some damn fuel.  NOW!” Liatrix roared.

“That won’t be necessary,” Keeper began. “You may use my personal vessel. It’s fully fuelled and stocked and at the ready. I trust you have some familiarity with the Phantom model? If you find _any_ aspect of the vessel unfamiliar, engage the AI. I’ll have IC-FIN transfer command to you.”

“Thank you, Keeper—for everything. Liatrix pocketed the disc and replaced her mask. “I’ll do everything I can to bring them all back.”

 

((to be continued…))

 

     


	57. Chapter 57

   

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Fifty-Seven**

 

Three cigar-shaped vessels constructed of coiled spitcrete kept pace with the _Invidia_. Crops of bulges packed the sides of the ship, similar to the heavy Mon Calamari cruisers.  The propulsion system whirred with the same voice as a swarm of insects filled with trillions of individuals working in concert.

“It’s the Killiks, my lord,” Admiral Ethos dared, his gaze touching on the dead officer at his feet. Another blast rocked the ship and the senior bridge officer tugged his battle-starched collar out from his throat and stole a much-needed breath.

Jadus glared at the nearest enemy vessel. “Have the boy transferred to my shuttle and have it ready for departure.”

Before Ethos could respond a message crackled over the com, “Admiral, you’re needed on the bridge.”

“Report, lieutenant.”

“They’re taking out our com relays and sensors. Oh no—no. We’ve been boarded. There are Killiks… _everywhere!_ Argggggh!”

“Calm yourself, lieutenant. Initiate emergency force fields. Once we have them cornered, gas them.  Inform Ebon Squad they’re needed in Lord Jadus’s quarters to assist with prisoner transport.”

“Acknowledged, Admiral. Ebon Squad dispatched.”

“Take care of this, Ethos. Then rendezvous with your men on Korriban as we discussed.”

“Yes, my lord.” Ethos clipped and grew paler. “What about the agent?”

“If she survives until my return, I will continue the work.” Jadus stalked from his quarters just as Ebon Squad arrived. 

Ethos shuddered and urged his soldiers inside to collect the Force-prison. “This way men.  Use your utmost care with this one. Hurry and prepare the _Malagant_ for departure.”

 

*

 

The Killick boarding pod yawned, releasing a fierce cadre of armed warrior Killiks. Vector emerged next, in black-green iridescent armor, the helmet, a gleaming stylized insect head complete with gazelle-horn antennae. In his arms, he brandished a duracrete electrostaff, silver lightning lancing between the dual forks.

“Move quickly,” Vector ordered. “Her song ebbs dangerously close to its final verse. We cannot lose her.” 

The swarm marched the halls, felling anyone attempting to interfere with a swoop of their glaives. Their mandibles clacked in anticipation of the next attack, but their minds were still and silent and hyper-focused on the fraying canticle driving their purpose.

‘ _We are here, Ilia, and we will find you,_ ’ Vector promised.

As they moved, they smashed sensor cylinders and coms leaving behind a wake of golden sparks. 

Vector strode ever forward, his senses tuned to the ethereal glittering strand binding him to Ilia.

 

*

 

Theron steadied himself against a crate and shucked the body of the defunct gonk droid in favour of a set of Imperial trooper armor he’d found stowed aboard. The ship rocked again and the shuttle shuddered on its landing gear. 

A set of boots clattered up the boarding ramp.  “Droid? Droid? Have you finished repairs? I need the fuel hoses disengaged from the _Malagant_. Droid?”

Theron swore and kicked the gonk droid’s shell.  “Useless piece of excrement,” he said, trotting out his finest Imperial accent.

“Is there a problem?”

“It appears your droid, malfunctioned. Nothing I tried, worked.”

“I need to know if it completed the repairs on Admiral Ethos’s shuttle.”

Theron nodded. “Looks like it. Why? Is he going somewhere?”

“ _That_ is none of your concern,” the deck officer squinted at Theron’s ID plate, “TE-1110. And what are you doing aboard? Alone?”

Theron shifted his weight. “No one told me we were back, I fell asleep.”

“Probably drinking on duty, more like. I’m writing you up.”

“Sounds like we’re under attack. You can look the other way and I can give you a hand, or you can remove those fuel hoses yourself.”

“I catch you loafing off again and I _will_ report you.”

“Thanks, I owe you.” As the officer turned away, Theron cranked his fist back and punched the deck officer in the head hard enough to knock him out.

“Don’t worry, I won’t report _you_ ,” Theron drawled impishly. After binding and gagging the officer, he locked him inside a munitions crate and deplaned.

_‘Time to get my son.’_

My son.  The words still felt foreign but the feeling coursing through him was one of warmth and desperation. Having his own family had been a ‘someday’ for a long time, but ‘someday’ was here and it was a comforting thread he wanted to weave into his life.

 _‘Gotta find Vector and Ilia too—if there’s anything left to find.’_ The macabre thought attached itself to the rest before he could repress it and he frowned. ‘ _She’s alive. She’s gotta be.’_

The closer he came to the heavy interior durasteel hangar doors the more chaos beyond them registered.  Blaster shots, bug chatter, and screams, both human and insectoid echoed through the halls. He glanced down at his disguise and shook his head.

_‘They won’t be able to tell it’s me. Damn. Looks like it’s back to the ventilation shaft for me.’_

No sooner had he pulled himself inside the guts of the ship and closed the panel behind him, he could hear a squadron of Imperial troopers marching into the hangar.  Cautiously, he moved forward to put distance between himself and the hangar.

_‘That was close. Should’ve wired those shuttles to blow. Argh. Opportunity lost.’_

*

 

Vector spun his electrostaff and bashed the coded control panel locking the door to Jadus’s quarters.  The doors parted just enough to wedge his shoulder between them and force them apart.

His gaze landed on the fragile, slumping body bound to the interrogation table and without thinking he bolted toward her and removed his helm.  “We are here. Ilia, can you hear me? Ilia _please_ ,” he coaxed. He withdrew an ampoule of what Ilia called ‘bug milk’ from his belt and dribbled the contents into her mouth.

Gently he flicked the wisps of red hair from her eyes. “We beg of you, don’t leave us. We’re here,” he murmured. “We’re going to free you.”

He fought the restraints clamping her to the device, but nothing he did would pop the lightning fused cuffs apart. Vector closed his eyes and six fingerlings drifted in, bodies glowing and wings whirring to land on the table.  The tiny Killiks spat thin streams of corrosive liquid at the cuffs binding her wrists, ankles, and midsection. The durasteel withered and corroded, finally falling asunder.

Vector communicated his thanks to the fingerlings and caught Ilia in his arms.  A pall came over the nest as hundreds of its members succumbed to the poison gas Ethos pumped through the ship. “We need to leave, they’re killing us.”

The fingerlings disappeared into the fluting of Vector’s armor and clung to him.

An unintelligible whimper escaped Ilia.  He propped her against the table just long enough to reclaim his helmet.  “We’ll soon be free,” he promised. The song of the nest grew weaker as the Killiks died and Vector gave the order to evacuate and retreat.

Above him, the ceiling rattled and a pair of trooper boots came down hard against the ceiling grate. “Vector? It’s me, it’s Theron!” The trooper shouted and flipped down from the shaft.

“We were concerned when we didn’t hear from you, but we didn’t wish to jeopardize your position.”

“How is she?”

“Not well, we’re afraid. She needs immediate care. We’re returning to our fleet to place her in the pool of healing. Will you join us?”

“I can’t, Vector. I have to get my son. You and Ilia and your people need to go,” Theron said, starting for the room Deston had been kept in.

“There’s no one else here,” Vector said. “Do you have the means to escape?”

“I’ll think of something.” Theron tore apart the compartments and storage units and roared.

Ilia’s eyes fluttered open, teary and filled with pain. “Jadus took him…Vector…” she managed.

“Save your strength,” he whispered.

A cloud of green poison leaked in from the corner of the room.  “Dammit,” Theron snarled. “Looks like that’s our cue. Get her out of here.”

“Thank you, Theron, for everything. If only there was something more we could do.”

Theron and Vector shook hands. “You’ve done enough,” Theron said. “C’mon, let’s get you to your pod.”

 

*

 

Jadus stalked up the boarding ramp of the _Malagant_.  In the cargo hold, half of Ebon squad worked feverishly to secure the Force prison and ensure it was still holding, while the other half of the squad tended to the shuttle’s fuel hoses and security mooring. 

“My lord, your cargo is secure and your shuttle ready for departure,” the captain of Ebon squad announced.

“Excellent.  Return to Admiral Ethos and purge my ship of these traitorous insects.”

“At once, my lord.”  The captain bowed and backed away from the Sith Lord, careful not to turn his back to him, to show the proper respect.  The soldier returned to his men and the squadron left the hangar deserted.

Jadus slid into the shuttle’s command chair and engaged the vessel’s AI.  The _Malagant_ powered up, hovered, pivoted, and sped out of the hangar in a smooth arcing motion.

Theron charged into the hangar and threw up his hands at the _Malagant’s_ pale blue thrusters gathering into light speed. The craft shot off into the darkness and Theron stooped, hands on his knees, huffing to catch his breath. A string of High Gamorrean curse words escaped Theron’s bucket helmet as he yanked it off his head.

His hands bunched into fists and his eyes burned.  So close. Another minute would’ve been enough. Maybe if he hadn’t seen Vector and Ilia off at their boarding pod…but he owed them that much. He owed them much more.

A warm, familiar voice rose from the chaos in his mind.   _‘It’s not too late, Theron. You can still catch him,’_ the voice encouraged, as it always did when Theron felt lost.

“Thanks, Master Zho. Look out for him for me.” 

With Vector and Ilia safely aboard the Killik capital ship, there was nothing to hold him back.

Theron bolted into Admiral Ethos’s shuttle and flopped into the pilot’s seat. After disengaging the force field, he soared into the immense darkness on the greatest chase of his life.

 

The Killik capital ship and the two flanking it, released another volley of acid-filled torpedoes at the _Invidia._

The star destroyer returned fire, leaving a sizeable hole in one of the flanking ships. Several Killiks were sucked into space, instantly freezing and floating free in the glacial darkness.  The surface of the _Invidia_ turned black and grey at impact. The Killik acid spread, rotting the pale pristine surface until the Imperial star destroyer was reduced to a skeletal derelict bleeding bodies.

The Killik capital ship emitted a protective shield around its damaged cruiser and the trio sped off for Alderaan. 

 

Inside the capital ship, Vector watched anxiously as Ilia’s body rose from the deep immersion of the healing milk pool. Cords of pale, translucent liquid streamed off her body and he took her hand in his when the platform stilled. 

While she didn’t wake, her life signs were stable.  Several more immersions would be needed, but each would need to be carefully timed so that she retained her humanity—anything more and she would become a joiner.  

He pressed a kiss to her lips and smiled.  “We won’t be far, but we should report to the others,” he whispered, leaving her side long enough to com Balkar.

The spy’s image rose from the spitcrete holo display unit.  “Vector—we’re on tenterhooks here. What’s happening?” Jonas demanded.

In the background, Keeper straightened at the incoming message and folded his arms. Even at a distance his brow was furled and his gaze sharp.

“We believe the mission to be a success thus far.  The _Invidia_ has been incapacitated, however, Jadus escaped.  We believe Theron is giving chase.”

“You’re not sure?”

“We know Theron. He went off on his own, but we have no doubt, he’s pursuing Darth Jadus. He has his son hostage.”

Balkar felt Keeper’s glare burning into the back of his head. “And Ilia? How is she?”

“We are confident she will survive, though her treatments are only just beginning.”

Balkar blew out a deep breath. “Can’t tell you what a relief that is. It’s good news. And help is on the way. Liatrix and Scourge are heading for Korriban.”

“Perhaps you may be able to reach Theron, brief him,” Vector offered.

“Sounds like a plan.  We’ll be in touch.”

“You may count on it, Jonas, Vector out.”

 

Keeper left the control room after the transmission faded.  The elegant joiner’s voice repeated its assurances in his mind. She was safe and she would recover and that was enough.  That was all he needed, he told himself.

As always, the pleasantries faded all too quickly, reality demanding the practical and the necessary.

He traced the edge of the com unit and jabbed the needed frequency.  Vowrawn appeared before him, his mouth full of pearly white daggers.   


“Keeper, this is an unexpected pleasure,” Vowrawn clasped his hands. “I trust you have news for me?”

“Yes, my lord. The _Invidia_ has been immobilized, however, Jadus is on his way to Korriban. There is also a troubling complication—he’s holding Theron Shan’s son captive, with the express purpose of luring the Commander into a confrontation.”

“So, the boy is alone with Jadus,” Vowrawn nodded.

“You knew, my lord?”

“Indeed and there is one further thing you ought to know. _That_ is no ordinary boy. He’s a vessel to our former Emperor’s essence and consciousness.”

“With all due respect, my lord. You might have mentioned this earlier.  They’re going in blind.”

“Rest assured, my friend, they won’t be for long,” Vowrawn drawled. “At last the pieces are in motion and I believe it’s time we returned home.”

 

((to be continued…))

              


	58. Chapter 58

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Fifty-Eight**

 

 

Scourge set the craft down deep within Korriban’s canyons. The dry stale smell of tombs, wrapped in millennia of shifting sands filtered inside as the boarding ramp dropped. The canyon was an anathema to all life, not even the tuk’ata dared to wander inside the weathered titian ravine. 

Liatrix stood and took in the unsettling view. The cliff formations transported her to another time and back again. “I remember when I first came here.”

“As do I. You nearly died in my arms—all over a fool’s errand.”

“It wasn’t to _me_ ,” she asserted. “I’d do it again—”

“The one lesson I’ve long sought to impart upon you—that expecting a different outcome from the same actions is a—”

“—a sign of madness,” she finished.  “Do you think Jadus knows? Or is it a coincidence he asked us to come to the Well of Undying?”

“Jadus doesn’t strike me as a man who trades in coincidence. He has his reasons—I only wish I knew what they were and what they meant.”

“I’ve got to give him credit where it’s due. If he wanted to unnerve me, he’s damn near succeeded.”

“Your calm gives me reservations, given what’s at stake,” Scourge murmured.

Liatrix turned to face him fully. “I can’t allow myself to be anything else.  Deston might already be dead. This is what Jadus wants—to throw me off balance.”

“Allowing Jadus to force us to come to him, is a mistake. If it weren’t for the boy, I would insist we leave—refuse to play into his hands—but I know you would never abandon the boy.”

“My _son_ ,” she corrected. “It seems my enemy has me at a disadvantage. He knows a lot more about me than I know about him.”

“That would make sense, given his years presiding over Imperial Intelligence. Speaking of which, what did Keeper say to you? I sensed you were… _affected_.”

“He told me about my mother, spoke about her marriage to my father. I think he meant to help—to fill in the missing pieces I had no way of ever knowing.”

“It concerns me, he’d choose _now_ to make these revelations.”

Liatrix took his hands in hers. “Now is as good a time as any. He was my father’s most trusted friend and ally that much I know.” 

She gazed up at him, untouched by time and the longing he had once hoped to thwart blazed as it did the day he’d learned she loved him over a decade ago. Broken and bleeding she loved him.

“You are just as I remember in my visions,” he said.

“Maybe they were showing you today.”

“If they were, they denied me the outcome—perhaps it was not the first time I saw your face, but the last.”

“Then let’s end this, it’s dragged on long enough,” Liatrix whispered and drew him down to her.  The kisses they traded tasted too much like finality to be of comfort. They only served to remind that all things end and beginnings lacked the assurances their passion demanded.

She drifted from him gently, abruptly, and after affixing her mask, she disembarked to greet their fate.  Scourge’s brow’s pinched to form a deep chasm between them.  If the Force was an instrument, an insect crept across its strings, the signature well known to him, but faint—a spider in the wait. 

Instead of joining her immediately, he paused by his satchel and removed the holocron he had claimed on Nathema and secreted it in the reticule at the back of his belt, his long billowing cloak concealing the device.

Together, they entered the cave that led to the Well of Undying.  The torches ignited at their arrival, the electric blue flames revealing the thin runnels of moisture dampening the interior walls.  The smell of wet soil and mold wafted throughout the cave.  Scourge clamped his hand over Liatrix’s shoulder.

“What is it?” She whispered.

“There’s another presence here, one I haven’t felt for some time. He’s here.”

“I feel it too. I don’t like it. Is this where he’s been hiding?”

“Perhaps. As you know, this temple is well known to me,” Scourge said. “You must trust me if we are to succeed.”

“I trust you with my life—always have. Be careful. I _love_ you.”

“And I you,” he replied.

Liatrix fought the urge to linger as Scourge vanished between seemingly solid walls. She felt him ascending higher into the cavern through a secret passageway? Stairs? She wasn’t certain but continued onward toward her goal.

Moments later, she emerged into the vast circular temple. The false well lay at its core, the illusion of glossy water flush with its edging stones had renewed since her last visit. Only one detail differed from her memories—instead of the purple holocron designed to bait seekers of arcane knowledge into killing themselves for it—a new trap had taken its place—the Force prison confining Deston.

The boy bobbled inside the Forcefield like a sickly fish, seemingly unconscious, the messy ridge of spiked hair bristling up from the center of his head.  Bruised, tawny flesh peeped out from under the rags he wore and Liatrix fought the urge to go to him.  Above him, pale blue flames roared from the enormous iron chandelier illuminating the temple cave.

 

Behind her mask, her eyes blazed and her weapons sprang to hand.  “I’m here, Jadus. Come out and face me.”

No sooner had she issued the invitation, Darth Jadus appeared on the opposite side. “You came promptly, good. As you can see, your son is alive, for now.”

“Let him go, Jadus.”

“Not until the exchange is made—your life, for his.”

Liatrix laughed mirthlessly. “Do you really expect me to believe you’d make good on that deal after I’m dead?”

“You didn’t come alone and I’ve kept my word thus far.”

“Your _word_ means nothing to me,” she snarled and ignited her lightsabers.  “I’ve had enough of your posturing.  Fight!”

“Once, you were the greatest warrior the galaxy had ever known, but no longer. Those are gifts I alone took from you.”

“Why don’t we test that theory?”  Liatrix shot up high above Jadus, blades angled down at his helmet.

 

 

Scourge climbed the narrow steps leading to the apex of the temple.  Too wide to approach them directly, he turned sideways, his chest only inches from the wall as he moved. Dried and dismantled cobwebs clung to his face, the itchy sensation far more troubling than any notion of claustrophobia. Despite their hunger, the dusty Tuk’ata spiders retreated from the darkness emanating from Scourge, opting to hide in the deepest crevices they could reach until he was gone.

Higher and higher he climbed until he reached the crawlspace leading to the center of the temple. Moving along on his hands and knees, he ducked into the cove above the chandelier. The space was large enough for two men to stand and facilitated the installation of the iron light fixture below, the crumbs of their skeletons still dusting the stone.  Though faint, the Emperor’s Force signature was closer than before—and an insidious thought occurred to Scourge—Vitiate dwelled within the boy. It was a detail, he hoped Liatrix would miss, at least until after Jadus had been dealt with.

The ages had taught him many things, perhaps the most important being, that no matter the adversity, a plan was needed to overcome it.

 

 

With an outstretched hand, Jadus sent Liatrix sailing in a backward arc over the well. She landed in a crouch, her blades crossed and angled to block his lightning. Massive jags of electricity coiled down the length of her blades, threatening to reach the hilts. Thin shoots of blue-purple energy seared through the dorsal plate of her gloves, etching the backs of her exposed hands with raised, white scars.

Liatrix gritted her teeth and deflected the salvo of lightning back to him.

Jadus reabsorbed the savage energy, but instead of redirecting it, he reached out with the Force and ripped the mask from Liatrix’s face, leaving her eyes exposed.

She blinked like a Loth bat chased out of the shadows.

“Without your mask, you’re finished,” Jadus said, powering up again.

The sudden unmasking demanded a quick recovery—one she wasn’t sure she could pull off in time. Rather than remain still, she dove into a trio of somersaults, narrowly avoiding the attacks that landed seconds after she’d moved.

Her vision doubled as she moved, ghosts and shadows creating false edges around every surface and object. A ‘ghost’ of Jadus clung to his body as he hurled a spray of stalactites at her. The ghost became his twin and then flickered back into his body when he stilled.

Liatrix swore. She pivoted to dodge the incoming stone daggers. One icicle-thin shard lodged into her shoulder. A sense of amazed shock electrified her racing blood. The sudden stab oozed in a dark patch around the rocky stiletto. To pull it out risked bleeding out fully if it nicked a vessel, but now was not the time to take stock. She hurled a boulder at Jadus, only to have it batted away.

Her eyes narrowed. He prowled dangerously close to the edge of the well and she took the chance to end him. A sharp tug with the Force brought him reeling forward into the abyss.  The watery illusion vanished as he plunged head first toward the bottom.

Liatrix gasped and stole a moment to catch her breath. The wound felt hot. She tasted blood and spat it out. Fierce, biting pain radiated through her shoulder to her elbow.  With the Force, she reclaimed her mask, this time binding the material more securely.

She stood, cautiously straightening and waited—but instead of the thud she hoped to hear upon his impact, Jadus shot out of the well to land on his feet, a few meters before her. For the first time in their duel, he drew his lightsaber, the scarlet blade roaring to life.

He strode toward her. “It’s over—you can’t defeat me, Incarnal.”

“You just keep telling yourself that,” she said, backing away slowly.

“There is nowhere left to go. You’ve backed yourself into a wall.” Jadus swung his blade at her head.

Liatrix panted and dodged left, then right, his blade only inches from her face each time. With nowhere left to go, she shot straight up, somersaulted and landed on the chandelier above the well, and Deston’s jail.  Every movement despite the Force shifted the stiletto. A pained sob escaped her despite her best efforts to stifle it. She clung to the bulky chain. The burning sensation in her shoulder became a red-hot poker that felt as if it were rending her arm apart from the inside out.

Jadus whirled around, his attention instantly hyper-focused on the chandelier and the bolts securing it in place.

Liatrix swung to and fro over the well.  The illusion reformed, once more filling the depths of the well with water.

The bolts creaked above her, threading their way out of the fixture faster than she would’ve liked. She sensed Scourge above her and worked with him to still the chandelier.  Another set of bolts plummeted into the well and the chandelier fell askew.

“He’s going to drop it on Deston, we can’t let that happen,” she hissed, hoping Scourge heard her.

The final bolts gave way. Liatrix hurled her off-hand lightsaber at Jadus. Scourge’s hands closed around her wrist to pull her up and against him. Just as the chandelier was about to strike the Force jail, Jadus himself, flung it out of the way to keep the cage intact, but something was wrong.

Liatrix’s lightsaber lay at his feet. Blood bubbled from his hand—half of it sliced clean away, leaving only his thumb and index finger attached, but twitching.

“Now we finish it,” Scourge growled.  With a flick of his hand, the Force jail powered down and the field caging Deston dropped.

Vitiate’s faint signature bloomed like a neutron detonator, flash freezing the entire temple cavern into a sparkling frost-coated wonderland.

Scourge pulled the stalactite from Liatrix’s shoulder, quickly packing it with kolto, painkillers, and stims to speed the spread of the healing measures. 

“After this—you need to end him,” Scourge murmured matter-of-factly.

“You want me to kill my own son,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I can’t.”

“You _must_.”

“I’ll find my own way.”

“Don’t be stubborn. _End_ him.”

“And what will _you_ be doing huh?” Liatrix glared at him like he’d lost his wits.

“I have something in mind.” Without a word, he pulled the holocron from Nathema from under his cloak.  “Trust me.”

“And you, trust _me_ ,” she urged. “I’ll make this work, but I’m doing it _my_ way.”

Scourge growled, a mix of exasperation and annoyance. “I _trust_ you.”

“Now, was that so hard?”

“Surprisingly? Yes.”

 

The boy, clad in loose wrappings ambled toward Jadus.  “You thought you could contain me. You were _mistaken_ ,” the Emperor’s voice boomed from the child’s mouth.

Jadus towered over the boy Emperor. “First, let me finish what I’ve begun—then the real work may begin. Who would dare challenge us? Masters of the darkness, we have treaded its dominion and emerged not only unscathed but have risen above it as savants and harbingers.”

“I once believed you were the greatest Sith to emerge from the ranks of my failed Empire—but I see now, my judgment was premature.  You presume to be my equal, but I require no harbingers. I am finality—the end of all endings. Now you will learn your place in my vision.”

The boy raised his hand, fingers splayed.  For several seconds nothing appeared to change, and then an electric blue light burned through Jadus from the inside out, eating away his armor and implants first, then muscle and tissue, leaving only a sticky heap of collapsed skeletal debris at his feet.

Slowly, the boy turned around, his gaze fixing on Liatrix as she leapt from the nook to the edge of the Force jail and finally to the temple floor.

“So, this is where you’ve been all this time, squatting inside my son,” Liatrix said calmly and approached him.

Her heart ached at the sight of him, all innocence stripped from the gentle amber-brown eyes she remembered, bruises stippling his tiny body.  “Is there anything left of him?”

“He exists, if only to feed your _hope_ —an ingrained Jedi flaw you should’ve purged long ago. No doubt my traitorous wrath has instructed you to end me—but I have lived within your flesh and I _know_ that to be an impossibility. For all your strength, this small child remains your greatest weakness.”

Liatrix clasped her hands at the small of her back.  “I never thought I’d say it, but it appears you’ve won.”

“And likewise, I never thought I would see the day when you stand before me, damaged and defeated, but unlike Jadus, posturing and scheming until the end, I sense resignation in you.”

“I can’t beat you, you’ll hurt my son.  All that’s left is surrender,” Liatrix said.

“Had you given yourself to me fully on Odessen, all of this could have been avoided.”

“But then you didn’t have anything that mattered to me.”

“Will you not bargain for his life?”

“Why?”

The Emperor laughed. “You’ve grown to know me all too well.  Of course, without my strength powering these spindly limbs, this insignificant heart—the boy _will_ die—all that remains is how. I am not without a modicum of mercy. Shall he die slowly, knowing the pain of every torment known to the galaxy, or will he mercifully slip away? The choice, is my consolation gift to you, my worthy adversary. Give yourself to me willingly and he will die quickly and silently like the time passing between us.”

Liatrix spread her hands, the white branching scars having burned clean through to her palms. “I submit—I give myself to you freely.”

Three things happened next in perfect synchrony.  The boy fell dead the moment the Emperor left his body and entered Liatrix. 

Scourge roared.  “This is not what we agreed on! You were to end him!”

Liatrix’s gaze fixed tearfully on Scourge and with an upturned palm she called his lightsaber to her hands and plunged the blade into her gut. 

Theron Shan tore into the temple, blasters out as her knees buckled and her body collapsed next to their son.  “NO!”

The Emperor, unable to claim complete ownership in those few seconds rose, expelled from the dying body, the well chamber echoing with his fury. 

Scourge thrust the holocron toward the Emperor’s essence. The power within fixed on the ghostly energy with the relentless tenacity of a homing missile.

“Stop! This is outrageous! Stop it! I demand it!” The ghost bellowed.  “How dare you, my wrath—the unrepentant traitor!”

The sides of the pyramidal holocron opened, pulling Vitiate’s spirit inside the prison and then clamped tight like a vice, the scarlet glow inside indicating a perfect capture and containment.

Theron threw himself between Liatrix and their son and scooped the child into his arms.  “It can’t end this way. Not like _this_.”

The Sith eyed the spy matter-of-factly.  “There is no time to waste…”

 

((to be continued…))


	59. Chapter 59

     

 

                   

 

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Fifty-Nine**

 

Liatrix emerged from the fog, to find herself standing on a beach.  With the calming surf lapping against the pale sand, it might have been Rakata Prime, but the lack of ruins, cliffs, trees, and warmth told her this was another place entirely. A pervasive absence of colour reduced the landscape to sculpted ashes—perhaps colour was a privilege known only to the living.

Beyond the shore, a void hovered over the water’s surface, the edges electrified and hungry. She shared its hunger and moved toward it, but some unseen barrier kept her from the water.

Darkness clung to her in loose swathes, forming robes, but it was not the grasping, greedy, power she had dallied with in life, only a frail reminder of it.

The fog ended at the shore and beyond it, she saw two lights, one larger, the other, smaller. Both passed through the void and emerged unscathed, as easily as passing through a portal.

The larger of the two lights moved toward her, its trajectory determined and unswerving. When it reached the shore, it took shape, one she knew well.

“Father,” Liatrix murmured. “I never thought I’d see you again. Not after the last time.”

“Nor I, you. The will of the Force demanded I leave you to your destiny.”

“Why?”

“As unforgivable and sudden as my departure may have seemed, my continued influence would have jeopardized all we had worked for,” Marr explained. “I knew the truth—your children lived—but it was information withheld for the greater good.”

“So that’s why you left—you _knew_ —and the galaxy be damned, I would’ve gone to find them. My son might be alive now if you’d told me the truth.”

“It was a sacrifice I made with reservations, but one that needed to be made.”

“One _you_ made, or one forced on you by Satele Shan? Every word out of that woman’s mouth makes me wish I could kill her again.”

“She knew as I did what needed to be done, the Force demanded it.”

“Where is she now? Gloating?”

“Having made my sacrifice, there were no more lessons to be shared. I chose to sequester myself within the Force.”

“Who’s that with you? That’s not…Deston? Is it?”

Marr nodded. “He has already passed through the void as we all must. He will remain with me. I will teach him all he requires.”

“Here? I wanted to _save_ him…give him a chance at life.”

“And so you have.”

“This isn’t right!” Liatrix shook her head, eyes wide. “Take me instead! Let him live.”

“You are laboring under the misapprehension that my will or desire hold any power in this place.”

“That’s not fair, he’s _only_ a boy. He deserves to live. Take _me_. I’m begging you.”

“Don’t do this, Liatrix.”

“What about the vision we saw in the fire? He was to be the greatest Sith our galaxy has ever known.”

“The future churns with possibility and outcomes, but has no stability—it is only a potential at that moment. You _must_ go back.”

“ _Why?_ I don’t accept that.”

“Is your daughter reason enough? She _lives_ and needs her mother.”

Liatrix’s gaze shifted to a point of blue light somewhere beyond the false horizon. “And Theron? He fought so hard to save him—I saw it all in his eyes when I fell.”

“Your son has already lifted his father’s burden.”

“That’s why you took him into the void.”

“All who come here must pass through it and reckon with the Force.”

“Is _that_ why this is happening? Because I _failed_ somehow?”

“No. It is because you succeeded and because it is _not_ your time,” Marr said.

Liatrix took a step toward the sea but was rebuffed.  “Can’t I go to him? I want to see him—hold him. I won’t go until I do.”

Marr nodded. “So be it.”

The small hovering light drifted closer to the shore but was unable to pass through the ethereal boundary dividing them. The light took shape and Deston pressed his hands against the unseen wall. “Mama,” he whispered.

Liatrix wept. “My baby. I tried. I wanted you to have _everything_. I wanted you to be free from the Emperor and I lost you.”

“I _am_ free, Mama. I’m not lost.”

“I love you, Deston, more than _anything_. I want you to know that. All I ever wanted was to be with you. I’ll never forgive myself for leaving. Why did I ever do it?”

“Because you had to. If you hadn’t, he would have eaten the _whole_ Force, even everyone here,” Deston glanced up at his grandfather, almost as if the check if he got the words right.

Marr clasped the boy’s shoulder and nodded.

“I’m sorry.” Liatrix swiped at her cheeks.  “One day, we’ll be together again. No more looking at each other through panes of glass or Force veils.”

“Tell Sephna I miss her,” Deston said.

“I wish you could tell her yourself. If only I could hold you one more time.”

“Me too, but the Force won’t let us. I love you, Mama.

“I love you too. Both of you,” Liatrix whispered. 

“We will see one another again,” Marr said, palm raised.

The beach grew distant. Even whispers seemed startlingly loud and unnatural. The false horizon vanished, taking Liatrix and the all-permeating grey with it.

Marr turned the boy away from the barrier and after taking his hand, started back to where they’d come from. “Death is no more her solace than it will be yours.”

“Why couldn’t we just tell Mama what Sephna will do when she grows up?”

“Because _that_ , is not the will of the Force.”

“The Force is bossy.”

Marr chuckled.  “So it is.”

 

*

 

Theron sat alone in Keeper’s office on Rishi with the lights off. The floor lacked the usual speckled patterns found in hospitals. So did the ceiling. The entire room was a drab shade of duracrete grey and he wondered if this is what the place between heaven and hell looked like.

Scourge had told him, “There is no more to be done.”  The doctor had said the same thing. The medical droid repeated their words and found itself firmly implanted into the infirmary wall. His fists still throbbed but the cuts and nicks had begun to scab over.  Balkar had carried him out bodily with his arms pinned.

He had faced many things in his life, but never futility. Why would the Force allow him to find his son only to take him away the minute he did?

Every living thing had lessons to teach us Master Zho had once told him.  Strange how no answers or platitudes came at a time when he wanted them. Expected them. _Needed_ _them_. The Jedi had a knack for silence when you wanted them most.

A speck of faint light appeared in the corner to his left.  Warm and golden, it could’ve been sunlight, but for the life of him, he couldn’t find the source of it. How would sunlight penetrate durasteel walls at least a meter thick and underground? 

The speck contained a thousand smaller specks inside of it and drifted upward to hover over his hands. He turned his palms up, eager for the warmth, eager to catch its light.  The speck settled into his hands, illuminating his skin, his fingers and wrists until it had spread throughout his entire body. The pain in his hands went away.

He marveled at the sensation.  He wanted to call it peace, or maybe love, or calm, but even if he were to combine all of those things, it would still be inadequate. Perhaps the closest word might have been _goodbye_.

No sooner had the sensation touched him, it ended. For all too brief a time, he understood a perfection he didn’t believe existed and the harder he sought to hold onto even a fraction of it, the more quickly it dispersed leaving him alone again.

Alone yes, but perhaps not so empty. He would always cleave to the memory of that moment.

Another presence joined him, this one, quite real and it came bearing a cup of hot caf and a blanket.  “Jonas would like a word, is it all right for him to come in?”

“Sure, Lana. Yeah, that’s fine,” he said quietly.

She arranged the blanket over his shoulders and left without saying a word.  Jonas edged into the office, a few steps at a time.

“Hey…sorry about before—but it wasn’t doin’ anyone any good.”

“Nah, I get it,” Theron mumbled. “Any news? Is she?” Theron managed, unable to finish the rest.

“Her vitals were pretty unstable—took a nosedive at one point, but Doc has her stabilized for now.”

“I’m sorry, for your loss. Anything I can do?” Balkar asked.

“Thanks. How about telling me something good?”

“Reckon I can manage that.  Got to talkin’ with Vector.”

“How’s Ilia? Did she make it?”

“Yeah, it’s the damnedest thing. Whatever happened in that cave somehow purged whatever Jadus did to her.  Looks like she’s gonna make a full recovery. When she’s well enough to travel, they’re going back to Dromund Kaas.”

“Thank the stars,” Theron murmured.

“Yeah, so that’s some good luck right there. You never can tell with Sith Alchemy.  Speaking of which, Keeper’s been in touch with Vowrawn and Nox. I guess they’re coming up here—Quinn’s gonna work with Doc to sort out the lightsaber burns.”

“Makes sense, he did come up with the procedure.”

Jonas paced and rammed his hand through his hair. “There’s one more thing.”

“The way you say that—worries me.”

“Worries me too, but it’s probably better you hear it from me.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” Theron muttered.

“They’re also bringing Sephna—long story short, she’s been with them for some time and now that they know who Deston belonged to, well, they know who her people are too.”

“Right, so, one family reunion, coming right up,” Theron sighed. “Maybe it’ll help. Give Lia that push to stick it out a bit longer.  Having her daughter back might help cushion the blow a bit.”

“That’s what we were thinking too.  Look—if you wanna get the hell outta here before that happens, I got all the time in the world—we could use some downtime. We can go anywhere you want.”

“As good as that sounds, as _tempting_ as it sounds, I think I should stay, see it through, get some closure, once and for all…then maybe head for Tython.”

“Tython?  But why?”

Theron’s lip crept up slightly. “It’s quiet. I need quiet.  I may not have the Force, but I could use someone to talk to.  Might catch up with an old friend or two.”

“That Jedi pal of yours? Gnost-Dural?”

“The one and the same, yeah.”

“I guess a week or two camping on Tython might not be so bad, but you know you can talk to me about anything. Just puttin’ that out there.”

“I know,” Theron said quietly and hung his head. “This is just…about _possibilities._ I need to know if something is possible, or if it’s just the product of the imagination.”

“Do you think whatever it was, was real?”

“Yeah,” Theron said cradling his caf.  “I do.”

“Then it’s real.”

 

 

((to be continued…))


	60. Chapter 60

         

**The Sanctuary of Regret**

**Chapter Sixty**

 

Scourge watched the eddy of bubbles coil around Liatrix’s body while the medical droid drained the treatment tank.  No amount of kolto would remove the self-inflicted lightsaber scar, nor the pale trees of electrical damage coiling from her hands to her elbows like thready gloves. But the kolto would reinforce the layers of delicate reconstructive surgery mending her organs.

This afternoon was only the latest of many such afternoons. The rhythmic beat of life-sustaining equipment working persistently in the background was the only sound testing Scourge’s awareness. At other times, conversations between Kimble and Quinn would prevent him from sinking too far into his own thoughts. Their ideas, their plans circled the surface and whether he cared or not, became a part of him.

‘Plenty of sick and homeless pirates to keep Kira and me busy for years,’ the doctor had announced as if Scourge cared where he would end up. ‘And best of all? No Hutts and _no_ Justicars.’

Quinn, while alert and dedicated to his duty, said little—the mark of an intelligent man, Scourge thought.  Over time, and much to Scourge’s chagrin, he was forced to admit he and the Imperial shared many qualities in common.

Scourge had yet to meet Quinn’s wife, Darth Fernal—the only other to have served as the Emperor’s Wrath—a dubious distinction if ever there was one, but a distinction that still commanded respect and terror the galaxy over.

Fernal traveled with Nox, Vowrawn, and their entourage, their vessel due to arrive at any time. Playing to their own motivations and politics, Scourge suspected none of them cared to make the rush trip required, save for Quinn. The others would arrive in their own good time.

Though the introduction to his successor would prove enlightening, another introduction concerned him far more—the one he and Liatrix would share with their daughter. But hand in hand with anticipation came the inevitable crush of anguish and trepidation that followed a parent who had outlived his child.

Would remembering Toska diminish or enhance the bond with the true daughter of his blood? Was it a betrayal of the child he’d lost?  If he feared anything it would be the answers to these questions, that only time could answer.

The droid transferred Liatrix to the table and initiated a sequence of drying, disinfecting and binding her wounds. The nearing voices in the hallway suggested this afternoon would be one of distraction and for once, Scourge was almost grateful for it.

“Hey Quinn, you won’t believe what I heard on the holonet earlier,” Doc said upon arrival. “Go on, guess. You won’t guess. Not in a million.”

“Tell me or don’t,” Quinn replied coolly, “But spare me these guessing games you enjoy so much.”

“A’right, a’right. You could afford to loosen up though. _Trust me_ , I’m a doctor.”

“That may impress some of your more obtuse patients, however, I fail to see how it’s pertinent to my attitude.”

Scourge smirked.

Doc cocked his head like a confused Akk pup but was not to be deterred. Scourge had to award points for tenacity. “So get this,” Doc began. “You remember Darmas Pollaran right?”

“Of course, I remember.” Quinn froze. “What _about_ Pollaran?” He asked, his tone choppy. 

“Get this, Republic authorities found him _orbiting_ Belsavis.”

“Did he put up much resistance?”

“Nah.” Doc shook his head. “Near as they can figure he’d been strangled by a droid and shot out the airlock.  Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy, I’ll tell ya.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah, no doubt about it. The spy guys were monitoring it, so I listened in.”

“You eavesdropped. Hmph. Perhaps you missed your calling among the SIS,” Quinn quipped.

“Y’know, my career counselor said the exact same thing, but medicine, that’s the real action, and I’ve seen _a lot of action_ ,” Doc said, pulling double-guns with his fingers. “One of these days, the Journal of Xeno-Medicine will sit up and take notice of Ol’ Doc.”

Quinn’s nose crinkled. “That _rag…_ ”

Scourge stood, unfurling to his full height after sitting for too long. “When will she wake?” He interrupted.

“Today, I hope,” Doc said. “The Kolto is healing nicely—keeping her immobilized was imperative and seems to have paid off.”

“Perhaps a change of scenery would be of benefit, my Lord. You’ve been here for days on end,” Quinn said. “We would notify you of any change.”

Scourge twisted his left tendril ring. “Any word as to the ship?”

“Speak with Lana regarding their arrival,” Quinn offered. “I’m sure she has a more accurate assessment.”

“Hmm. Thank you.”

“My lord, there is one more thing, if I may be so bold…”

“What?”

“Your daughter, despite a troubling beginning, has grown to be a calm, clever, child, however that could take some time to re-emerge in an unfamiliar setting—a _new_ setting, new people...”

“Because I’m a stranger to my own child.”

“I meant no offense, my lord.”

“None taken, I was merely stating an unfortunate truth.”

“I only meant to make you aware of the challenges.  Such as the attachment she’s formed with one of Nox’s men—a former pirate captain and Republic deserter. Regrettably, now a constant to your daughter and a source of comfort. My wife went so far as to offer him employment on our crew, however, he refused.”

“I can see why,” Doc mumbled. “Brrrr.”

Scourge frowned. “Andronikos Revel.”

“Yes, my lord, clearly you’ve made his acquaintance.”

“I have,” Scourge glanced at the hospital bed where Liatrix now rested and started for the door. “If there are any changes…”

“We will inform you immediately, my lord.”

 

Scourge swept into the control room, but before he could make his demands, Lana closed the path between him and Theron and Balkar.  “Lord Scourge—the ship will be making its descent within the half hour,” she announced. “You must terribly excited.”

“ _Excitement_ is hardly adequate, but it will suffice.”

“They’ll be landing on shuttlepad Alpha. A trip to town won’t be required.”

“Good,” he clipped, his attention landing on the spies.  “Is it true about Pollaran?”

Theron nodded. “Yeah, it’s true. A contact of mine on Belsavis, confirmed it, just minutes ago.”

Scourge responded with a final acknowledging look and left the control room.

“It appears you two have managed to set aside your differences,” Lana observed.

“Well, I don’t know about that, but if he was gonna kill me, he’d have done it by now.”

“Hey, I’d call that progress,” Balkar chimed in.

 

*

 

Sephna toyed with the floppy-eared blue holo-monster on the Dejarik table and Andronikos watched her wistfully. After today, that would be it. “Hey kid, what’s with you and that Ortolan, huh?”

“Deston liked them,” she whispered.

“Yeah? Like you like Loth-cats?” He teased, rubbing her nose with the nose of the stuffed animal he’d given her what seemed like forever ago.

She nodded but tried hard not to blink.  When he pulled the toy away, she wept and tried to hide it.

“Whassa matter, hmph?”  Andronikos sighed. 

“Deston’s gone. I felt him go away. Promise me you won’t go too.”

“Can’t, kid. Piratin’ ain’ no life for a kid. Look, you don’t need _me_. You’re goin’ back to your parents.”

“And what if they go away again too?”

“They won’t. This is for keeps. Don’t tell me you don’t wanna meet ‘em.”

Her lower lip shook.  “I want you to stay, Nik.  I-I _love_ you,” she stammered and launched herself across the table to hug him.

His eyes widened. Reluctantly, he closed the hug and held her. Her tears stained his cheek and trickled behind his collar like little steaming snakes.

“Stay,” she hissed in his ear. “Don’t _leave_ me.”

At that, he pried her away and watched her with feral blue-grey eyes. “Cut that out,” he warned.

“Why? You like it when _she_ says it.”

“I _said_ , cut that out. I ain’ sayin’ it a third time.”

“Why do you like her and not me?”

“It’s not like that. It’s different.”

“Cuz she’s grown up?”

“It’s just _different_. Besides, it’s time this comet broke orbit anyway.”

Sephna’s brows pursed _._  “Someday, I’ll find you and you won’t know it’s me.”

He pried her off the rest of the way and plunked her on the table. “I’d know you anywhere, kid. C’mon now. Don’t you be like her. You don’t have to be. I like you plenty, just as you are, you get me?”

She nodded grudgingly and pouted in such a way no father could deny, but he wasn’t her father or anyone else’s and that made him bulletproof.  He flicked her lower lip with his index finger. “Pull that back in before a womprat chews if off.”

An even more grudging smirk lifted her lips and she retracted her pout. “I’ll see you again someday.”

“Not if I see you first. Now go wash your face—brush your hair. This is a big day for you. Like it or not, and put on that blue dress I got ya. That’s how I wanna remember you.”

Sephna collected her toy Loth-cat and shuffled to the refresher.

Fernal emerged from the shadows.  “Why Captain, who would’ve guessed under that gruff exterior exists a good man.”

“Don’t go ruinin’ a man’s reputation, uh?”

“Not to worry, Captain. I’ll take your secret to the grave,” she said, offering her hand to shake.  He accepted and held her hand briefly. “It’s bin one helluva trip, huh?”

“That it has, but new beginnings lay ahead.”

“And who would’ve guessed under that Sithy exterior lies an optimist.”

“Don’t go ruining a Sith lord’s image.”

Andronikos chuckled. “Thanks for everything.”

“Likewise. I take it you’ve sorted your loose ends here?”

“Workin’ on it.”

“And then what?”

“Same as always—gonna pick a direction and go in it.”

“Simple plans are always the best ones. I wish you well, Captain.”

“What about you and the General?”

“He craves Dromund Kaas like air.  It’s been a long time, but we’re finally going home.”

The proximity alert chimed.  “Looks like we’re here,” Andronikos muttered and returned to the cockpit to bring the vessel in.

Fernal’s gaze fixed on the double doors leading to the Captain’s quarters. Inside, Nox and Vowrawn spoke, but she chose not to linger or speculate and made her way to her bunk to catch a few rare and precious moments of meditation before disembarking.

 

*

Jonas refilled his caf and watched the control room lights dance on the surface of the inky liquid.

“I know what it’s like to lose...You okay?” Theron asked.

“You know what? I am. It’s a load off. No more lookin’ over my shoulder. No more resentment. It’s over.  I always knew, one way or another, how things with him would end. I’m amazed he lasted this long. Makes me wish I was the one that pulled the trigger.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“S’pose not.”

“You’re still welcome to join me on Tython.”

“Thanks,” he said raising his mug. “A little peace and quiet never killed anyone, right?”

Lana smiled. “I’ll hold down the fort till you get back. Then we can begin putting this Chrono nightmare to bed, once and for all. No one should have a weapon of that nature.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Theron said. “For now.”

 

*

 

Deep fluid tones were the first thing to worm their way into Liatrix’s consciousness, then the warmth on her face and the bright light above shedding that warmth.

The light was deceptive and for a moment she believed herself back on the beach, but the acrid smell of medicine hung in the air, soon followed by the beeps of equipment announcing her awakening.

“My lord,” Quinn said softly. “Welcome back.”

“Quinn?” Liatrix blinked, her brow creasing as she puzzled through how his presence was possible.  “You’re alive?”

“Quite.”

“Did you find her?”

“I did. Perhaps later, you’ll meet her. They’re due to arrive at any moment.”

“I’d like that,” she rasped.

Quinn tipped a glass of water to her lips. “There is someone else, you’ll wish to meet.”

Liatrix lowered the glass.  “How long have I been out? Deston?!”

“I’m sorry, my lord.”

She nodded. “I remember now.”

“For what it’s worth, you have my condolences.  I took the liberty of seeing to arrangements.”

“Thank you.” She sat up a bit more. “Where’s Scourge?”

“He went out to meet our latest arrivals—including, I’m pleased to say, your daughter, Sephna.”

“She’s alive?”

“Indeed. A long story, one better heard directly from your family.”

“I want to be there. I need to be up,” Liatrix hoisted herself up, wincing before swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

“Take care, my lord. You’re still recovering.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll try not to get into any fights…my clothes?”

Doc emerged from the anteroom with a set of fresh robes.  “Hey, beautiful, welcome back.  Thought you might be lookin’ for these.  I know there’s no sense holdin’ you back, just don’t overdo it. No bending at the waist, no overexertion. I’ve left instructions with Scourge.”

“I’ll behave—before you two disappear on me—I just want you to know, I’m grateful, for everything you’ve both done for me.”

“Service is its own reward,” Quinn said.

“Moments like this, tend to make Ol’ Doc a bit choked up.”

Quinn nodded. “If you wish to call it a day, Doctor, I’ll escort the Commander to meet the others.”

“Thanks,” Doc barked and disappeared again. 

“I’ll give you a moment,” Quinn murmured and left the room to notify Scourge.

 

*

 

The exterior doors to Keeper’s base parted, the sharp beam of daylight cutting between them like a lightsaber.  As the doors widened, several silhouettes dimmed the brightness to a more comfortable level and Quinn dropped the hand visoring his eyes.  “At last,” he whispered.

“Thanks, Quinn,” Liatrix said, taking a few careful steps forward.

Vowrawn emerged from the group first, hand extended. “Lord Incarnal, _Commander_ , it is my great pleasure to see you’ve already made such strides in your recovery.”

“Thank you, Lord Vowrawn—you’ve given me the greatest motivation I could ever hope for.”

“The gratitude is quite mutual, I assure you.  Thanks to you, _we_ ,” he said, beckoning to Nox, “Can go home again.”

“We all can, finally. The long nightmare is over,” Liatrix added. “Though I’m not quite sure where home is at the moment, and much needs to be settled between us.”

“Not so much as one might think—Keeper informed us, you wish to rebuild and continue with your father’s vision of a strong, unified Empire.”

“That was my thinking yes.”

“That requires an Emperor,” Nox oozed. “A capacity Vowrawn and I have shared for many years and one I wish to continue in. I have inducements to see that happen. Give up your claim, Incarnal.”

Liatrix said nothing but watched the next moves unfold.

Fernal emerged from the bright light next, “A child is not a bargaining chip,” she threatened.

Scourge towered behind Fernal.  “Vowrawn, what is the meaning of this?”

“A miscommunication it would appear.” Vowrawn clamped Nox’s elbow.  “Without lifting a finger, our home has been returned to us. You are not the _only one_ with inducements,” he said, raising a sharp brow.

“Does that mean you will remain here, among the living? That you’ve made your choice? I won’t tolerate any more talk of prematurely returning to the afterlife. We _need_ you.”

Vowrawn smirked. “My dear, my decision to remain was made months ago. Long before our child was conceived.”

“Is that true?” Nox demanded.

“It’s true,” Fernal said flatly. “I can confirm it.”

Nox whirled on Vowrawn, her features softening. “And you said nothing?”

“Your conniving never ceases to amuse and delight. I’m a hedonist above all else. Are we in agreement, my dear? Darth Incarnal will serve as Emperor, together we will rebuild. See Marr’s vision to fruition.”

“Very well, we’re in agreement. My thanks to you, _Empress_ , for ridding us of our great obstacles to a better life within the Empire.”

Liatrix nodded. “We all had a hand to play. We can finalize everything later. Right now there’s only one thing I really want to do, and that’s to reunite with my daughter,” she said, eagerly squinting at the light.

Scourge motioned for the child to step forward, and warily, like a wild creature, she took a few tentative steps away from the pirate shadowing her, but before she got too far, she leapt back and curled into his side and shook her head, her Loth-cat toy squashed against her chest.

“We talked about this, kid. C’mon,” Andronikos clasped her hand and marched her to her mother, Scourge following them closely.

Liatrix knelt carefully despite Doc’s orders and offered her hand.  “I like your Loth-cat. Can you come closer, so I can pet him?”

Sephna nodded and extended the toy to her.  Liatrix smiled and admired the toy animal.  “Your dress is really pretty. You have no idea, how much I missed you. I’m sorry I ever left.  I didn’t think I’d be away long…”

Quinn and Scourge exchanged glances, the latter placing his hand on Liatrix’s shoulder. “It’ll take time. We’ve been apart far too long.”

“You can’t know how happy I am to see you, Sephna,” Liatrix added. “I hope we can get to know each other, I’d like nothing more.”

Sephna nodded but kept her distance. “You look like Deston’s pictures.”

“I wish he could be here with us, right now, all of us, together.”

The child hugged her toy and turned back to Andronikos.

He clasped her arms and held her at their length. “These are your people, kid. Not me. I told ya, this comet’s gotta break orbit. Someday you’ll understand.”

Andronikos straightened and regarded the group.  “That’s my cue. There comes a time even the stars burn out.”

Without a backward glance, he marched up the ramp and disappeared into the light.

“Andronikos…” Nox called after him, but no reply came.

Sephna sobbed and Scourge drew her up into his arms. She buried her face into his shoulder and clung to him. Liatrix soothed the child’s back. Goodbyes were never easy, and no sooner had the thought scrolled through her mind, her gaze landed on Theron, leaning against the wall in the shadows.

“We should go,” Scourge murmured, the child’s eyes growing heavy with sleep.

Liatrix nodded.  “It’s time.”

Vowrawn caught Liatrix’s arm. “There is one more thing—if I may have a moment…”

“I’ll catch up to you at our ship,” she whispered to Scourge. “Of course, Lord Vowrawn. What can I do for you?”

Vowrawn pressed a palm-sized datapad into her hand. 

“What’s this?”

“Coordinates—I think it’s something your father would have wanted you to have.  You’ll understand when you see it.  It’s isolated, but I’ve arranged for all the amenities to be brought in. You’ll want for nothing as you recover. It’s yours.”

Liatrix examined the coordinates. “The Chommell Sector…I’ve never heard of it.”

“Few have.  It’s quite uncharted for the most part, but a world of unparalleled beauty—a perfect location for our Empress to call home and you need not fear intrusion. Only I have the coordinates and I don’t plan on sharing them.”

“Thank you, Lord Vowrawn. I have every faith that we can restore the Empire to what my father would’ve wanted.”

A shadow fell over Vowrawn’s shoulder. “As do I.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend.”

“Of course.”

Theron stepped around the rejuvenated Sith lord and stood before Liatrix. “Hey.”

The silence passed between them, heavy and unpopulated and starved with no hope of being fed.

Liatrix glanced at the floor, before braving a final look into his eyes—a face she’d never see again except in dreams and nightmares. “Theron,” she began. “I don’t know what else there is to say, except, I’m sorry…for _everything_.”

“Yeah, me too,” he murmured. He considered telling her about the spark, the warmth of the moment shared with their son but thought better of it. A spark could forge hope and promises—dreams he needed to consciously set aside for good. The door needed to close and for better or worse, darkness needed to fall between them.  “There’s only one other thing to say—and that’s _goodbye_.”

“Goodbye, Theron,” she whispered.  The amber in his eyes seared itself into her soul—an ember never to be forgotten or seen again.

She watched him descend into the darkness into the base, and when he was gone, she started up toward the light.

 

*

 

Her father had always told her, that time is not the constant we believe it to be.  It passes differently for everyone, despite man’s attempt to harness it, control it, or measure it.

Liatrix stood before the lake, slowly darkened by the incoming night, the first stars dotting the purple surface and defining a path for the world’s three moons to make their nightly pass overhead.

She set the last of the stones in place to complete the cairns she’d built—one larger and one smaller.  Pleased with her work, she leaned back, fingers cooled by the moist grass poking up between them.

Sephna watched from the duracrete balcony and turned back to her father.  “What’s mama doing?”

“Remembering,” Scourge said softly.

“But it makes her sad.”

“Perhaps, for a time.  But until we know sadness, we can never fully understand the value of pleasure or regret.”

“Do you think I could go help?” Sephna asked.

“Why don’t we both go,” Scourge said, hoisting his daughter to his shoulders. Together, they walked to the grassy bank, and Liatrix stood to meet them. Scourge drew his family close under his arm.

“Can we help, mama?”

“You already have,” Liatrix whispered and squeezed her hand.

 

_~The End.~_

 

((Roll credits))  [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rLVowa3xEbY&list=PLGYGe2PKknX18PTal0fMFkMXgiqDtozSM&index=2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rLVowa3xEbY&list=PLGYGe2PKknX18PTal0fMFkMXgiqDtozSM&index=2)

 

A/N: On September, 15th, 2012, I began a journey, one I never dreamed would become what it did. A series, five stories long; 613, 577 words total and now concluding on November 10th, 2018.  Six years of weekly chapter updates and a labor of love.  If this story was a child, it would be starting its first grade of school.  Scary and amazing at the same time.

I would like to thank everyone who followed along with the stories over the years, it means the world to me to share my SWTOR vision with all of you. Your comments and continued support over the years have buoyed me and were the fuel that kept me going, so I thank you all most humbly.

Now, I move on to write other stories that fight for my attention, original stories that beg me to tell them, so I shall do that! A writer’s work is never truly done.  Thanks so much, everyone, it’s been quite the ride.

                         


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